


An Artist's Personal Statement

by howl-to-the-wind (greenleaf)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Human, Art School, Artist Stiles, Beacon Hills Hospital, Camping, Car Accidents, Clumsiness, Doctor Derek, Down Syndrome, Drawing, Embarrassed Stiles, F/M, Fluff, Food, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Meddling Friends, Medical School, Meet the Family, Mourning, Movie Night, New York City, Pining, Singing Derek, Stiles Wears Glasses, Texting, courting, large family, plays
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-27
Updated: 2013-11-14
Packaged: 2017-12-27 18:06:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 87,818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/981999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greenleaf/pseuds/howl-to-the-wind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Being the middle child of five siblings, Stiles was used to taking the backseat. He was twenty-one years old, mouthy, pale skinned, and twitchy, and was probably the most overlooked in such a talented and good-looking family. Not only that but more often than not, he was bullied, teased, exposed (in a literal sense) and also ended up getting banged up and bruised. Thank goodness, there’s Dr. Hale to patch him up after all is said and done.</p><p>Just a monster of a fic with doctor!Derek and artist!Stiles, complete with a couple more Stilinskis and a gang of well-meaning friends running around trying to hook them up and keep them together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> It started off with me just wanting some doctor!Derek and artist!Stiles, and then me wanting a fic with Stiles having a large family, and then this monster came out of me. I’ve been writing fics for years now but this is the first time in about five months and also my first for Teen Wolf and Sterek.
> 
> I am not American (Asian, really... Filipino, specifically) so please pardon me if I got some Americanisms wrong. Feel free to concrit. Thank you very much.
> 
> An _artist's statement (or artist statement)_ is an artist's written description of their work. The brief verbal representation is for, and in support of, his or her own work to give the viewer understanding. It’s supposed to explain the works in their entirety and show who the creator was as a person and an artist, something to make the viewer understand what the body of work represented and meant to its creator.
> 
>  **UPDATE:**  
>  Changed the Rating from T to E for explicit scenes in latter chaps. Thank you to those who asked me about it. This was written a long while ago so I guess it never got into my head to change it.
> 
>  **UPDATE:**  
>  I took some time to edit this, so those who are rereading this may notice changes. It's nothing major though, just the basics with grammar, spelling, sentence construction, etc. and some little plotsies here and there (especially at the last chapter) that didn't really affect the story as a whole.

Being the middle child, Stiles was used to taking the backseat to his four other siblings. He wasn't like Fran, the eldest at twenty-five, who was in L.A. working as the confident and enigmatic junior editor of a fashion and lifestyle magazine. He wasn't like twenty-two year old Robbie, a total dreamboat with the dashing good looks, the flowing locks, and the culinary expertise he inherited from their mother. He was different from Jill, all sassy sarcasm and their budding musician and composer in the making at seventeen years old, and eleven-year old Ben, young, sweet, hyper to the point of nausea, and everyone’s absolute favorite.

Yes, it was true. Stiles Stilinski, the middle child at twenty-one years old, mouthy, pale skinned, and twitchy, was probably the most overlooked in such a talented and good-looking family. He liked to think that he had a few things going for him, like the sense of humor, the wit, the brains, and the mouth to talk the talk out of anyone. Most days though, he was just the middle kid, the boy-next-door all the girls seems to like, never  _like_ like, and the nice boy all the old ladies fussed over.

Stiles made a mark on one of their receipts with one of Jill's pens.

“And the tally has now run up to six against four in favor of Robert Stilinski.” He made cheering and whooping sounds, stopping only when Jill swiped her pen from him with a laugh.

Robbie gave Stiles and Jill a half-hearted glare through his shaggy locks as the two watched the buxom blonde walk back to her table of disappointed friends. She didn't look completely disappointed though. Robbie was direct, but gentle and kind. He would never embarrass anyone who approached him, no matter how uncomfortable it made him.

“Here I thought you have a thing for blondes, big bro.” Jill sipped her mocha frappe as she scribbled down on the music sheet in front of her. She hummed the piece under her breath and ran a hand through the sideways bangs of her short bob cut, which was even shorter than Robbie's long locks. Jill was their tomboy, much to Fran's disappointment at being the only girly one in the family.

“I thought he was more into redheads,” Stiles said, raising an eyebrow thoughtfully at Robbie. “Ginger would go so well with that face.”

“It's not that and you know it,” Robbie said, knocking back the rest of his coffee. He sighed. “You'd think people would get a clue after the first one I turned down.”

“You gotta admire their persistence,” Stiles said, earning a chuckle from Jill. “I noticed you hook more blondes than gingers, Robbie. I counted three blondes, a ginger, a brunette – who you had to admit, was very model-esque with the sharp cheekbones, but you aren’t gay so that was a waste – and the first one with the cool multi-colored tresses. She definitely got some neon in there.” He grabbed his sketchbook and returned a few pages back to his quick doodle of the girl. Just his luck to have accidentally left his pens at home. He’d have to get to this once he got back to his apartment or else he might forget the colors.

“That was pretty cool.” Jill let out a little coo at Stiles’ work. “But I'll classify that one as 'rocker chick, the first to die in a horror film’.”

Stiles snorted into his latte at that.

Robbie groaned, though he couldn't hide the amused quirk of his mouth. “You guys are terrible.”

“Yes, we are.” Stiles stood up, holding his palm out to Robbie. “Now I'm craving a muffin or two, and before you go on and on about how you make better muffins - because everyone knows you do, even the baristas here - save me the lecture. I just need my sugar rush.”

“Why am I paying?” Robbie complained, though he was already pulling out a bill from his back pocket.

Stiles fixed his beanie and ripped out a page from his sketchbook. “Because you are ridiculously attractive and hooking men and women left and right. The least you could do is offer your weirdo of a brother a few bucks to raise his self-esteem.”

Stiles bounced off to the counter, his glasses almost sliding off his nose.

It wasn’t entirely true. Stiles had long past gotten over such childish notions of insecurity or jealousy over his siblings. He felt the occasional punch in the gut now and then, such as whenever he got spectator seats to Robbie or Jill running up tallies of people constantly hitting on them while he only gets the occasional sidelong glance. But Stiles was the weird, awkward, artist in the family, and he had long since accepted that fact.

“Hey, there, ridiculously attractive person behind the counter.” Stiles grinned. “A banana chocolate chip muffin, if you please.” He slid the bill across the counter.

“You speak the truth.” Danny laughed and dutifully rang up his order. “And I’m sure you know, Stiles, that your brother makes better muffins than we do, but I’ll humor your quest for a sugar coma.”

“Thank you, dear sir.” Stiles made an exaggerated bow. “And you’re wrong. Robbie makes better _everything_ than all the coffee shops and restaurants in this place.”

“King Rob is an excellent cook and a total catch, which makes me wonder why no one’s been able to hit that yet.” Danny reached out to grab a muffin from the display case. He handed him the plate. “Still no word on that internship he’s waiting for?”

“Thank you and here is something for you.” Stiles handed over the page he ripped off. “Robbie’s top of his class, so god knows those uppity Manhattan cooks are idiots for making him wait until the end of the year for their decision. But yeah, so far we’ve heard nada. And don’t call him King Rob. You know he hates it.” He took a bite of his muffin.

“You are a gem. Plus, you got my shirt perfectly.” Danny grinned at the sketch, a quick one of him leaning back against the wall behind the counter with his arms crossed, looking off to the side with a grin on his face. Even the logo on his shirt was drawn in complete detail. “And you can’t blame people from calling him King Rob, though. He really does have this kingly aura going on, all proper and nicely done up.” He winked.

Stiles was used to Danny’s blatant adoration of his brother, but he knew Danny wouldn’t hit on Robbie. Well, not anymore at least.

Boyd appeared from the back of the store, carrying a tray of freshly-baked mint cookies.

“Aww, man! My fave!” Stiles was absolutely salivating as he watched Boyd place the tray in the display case. It was one of the rare deserts Stiles favored from someone other than Robbie.

Boyd silently placed one of the cookies on a plate and put it on Stiles’ tray along with the muffin. Stiles looked at him, wide-eyed.

“Seriously? Oh my god! I love you!” He took a deep breath, relishing the smell of a freshly-baked desert. “Do you have a date with Erica? You do, don’t you? That’s why you’re one big fluffy cat right now, yes, you are.”

“At least I have a date,” Boyd said in his usual deadpan manner. “When are you going to ask Derek Hale out?”

“And I’m gone,” Stiles said, trying to make a clean getaway.

Danny grabbed the other end of his tray with a laugh, preventing him from running.

“He has a point,” he said, grinning at Stile’s venomous glare. “It isn’t like you don’t have the chance to chat with him. There’s Mrs. McCall at the hospital, and there’s Isaac and Erica. You can swing through either one of the younger cousins, whoever you prefer.”

“Or go the direct route just to get it over with,” Boyd said. “Besides, he’s coming in right now.”

Stiles turned around with a jerk, his glasses almost skittering off his nose, but the only one who walked in was Lydia. He looked back at the smirking Boyd and laughing Danny, hissing, “You guys suck! Why are we even friends?”

“Hey, beautiful!” Danny shouted at Lydia with a smile. He turned to Stiles. “Come on, Stiles. You’ve been crushing on Derek for who knows how long.”

“About two months,” Lydia said, immediately getting into the conversation. “That was when Ben skinned his knee skateboarding and Stiles met Beacon Hills Hospital’s newest doctor. It was about time they get some new additions, if you asked me. We need more attractive doctors.” She forked over some money. “The usual for me, please, Danny.”

Stiles gave her a look. “I’m taking your statement as: ‘the plus side is encouraging people to get check-ups and stop being afraid of hospitals’ thing. Not in the ‘more people are gonna injure themselves willingly just to see the hot doctor’ angle.” He looked at them all. “And I just like looking at him. Don't pretend you guys don't feel the same. It’s not an issue or whatever. I don’t even know why you guys bother so much.”

“Because we are sincerely concerned about your lack of a love life,” Lydia stated, accepting her latte from Danny.

Boyd snorted. “That’s your reason, Lyds. I’m in it for the entertainment value.”

Danny snickered. “Yeah. You do look ridiculous when around him, Stiles. It’s horribly embarrassing, hilarious, and cute all at the same time.”

“I need better friends, seriously.” Stiles crossed his arms over his chest. “And if you guys are forgetting: he is twenty-seven years old, and a GP who is clearly way out of the league of a twenty-one year old college student who spends half his time wallowing in his art.”

“We know Doctor Hale likes you. Isaac and Erica say as much, and they’d know,” Lydia said. “And we all know your Dad likes him and so does Jill and the rest. Doctor Hale’s treated every member of your family at least once, after all.”

“Except for Fran, who’s in L.A.,” Danny added. “Now that I think about, it’s weird that you've only seen him like once or twice considering you injure yourself and trip half the time.”

There was a ding as the door opened and Boyd called out, “Welcome to Sweeters!”

“That, or you’d think all the pranks and stunts you and Scott liked to pull would have landed both of you at the hospital by now,” Lydia commented.

Danny raised an eyebrow with a smirk. “Hey, now that’s an idea.”

Stiles gave him a deadpan look. “I am not having Scott throw himself or me into traffic, Danny. Forget it.” He grabbed his tray of goodies, ready to walk off.

“I sure hope not.”

Stiles jumped up and stumbled back, almost losing his balance and his tray.

Well, shit. Speaking of.

“Sorry about that!” Stiles squeaked, looking at the doctor through his glasses.

“No harm done.” Derek said. It was then that Stiles noticed the hand around his forearm. Derek helped him stand steady on his feet and Stiles could feel his skin tingling through the long sleeve of his shirt.

Derek looked as he always did, which to Stiles meant drop-dead gorgeous. He was in a blue dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, dark pants, and black shoes. He didn’t have his white coat or his bag with him, but since it was only half-past four in the afternoon on a Wednesday, he was most likely on break.

Stiles belatedly realized that not only should he stop staring, but it was also a bit worrying how he knew all of that information about the man. He looked away with a flush. He could feel Boyd, Danny, and Lydia’s eyes on him.

“S-Sorry again, Doc,” Stiles said, pushing his glasses up his nose. He thought about what he had on, the nerdy glasses, beanie, skinny jeans, and a long-sleeved black shirt with the white blots on it he DIY-ed when he was bored and wondering what to do with extra fabric paint.

“It’s all right.” Derek gave him a look, his green eyes turning into something intense.

Stiles fidgeted.

Danny cleared her throat. “Good afternoon, Doctor Hale.”

There was a beat before Derek turned to him and only then did Stiles notice that Derek was still holding onto his arm.

“Hello, Danny, Boyd, Lydia,” he said, letting go of Stiles.

With that distraction, Stiles was tempted to run off, but Lydia slipped past Derek and stood by his side, weaving her arm through his.

“Stay,” Lydia hissed into his ear.

Stiles knocked the side of his sneaker against her shin, and was rewarded with a pinch to the forearm.

“Your usual, Doc?” Danny asked.

“Yeah. Thanks, Danny,” Derek said. He looked back at Stiles. “Now if you don’t mind my asking, why would you even think of throwing yourself in front of traffic?”

Stiles fidgeted, trying to resist the urge to glare at Boyd and Danny or step on Lydia’s toes. “Um… well… it was just a joke. Not a very good one, I guess.”

“It’s nothing, Doctor,” Lydia said, smiling politely, though Stiles could contest that with the iron grip she had on his arm. “Just your regular case of Stiles being a drama queen.”

Stiles glared at her. Lydia ignored him. Derek looked between the two of them, confused.

“How’s work so far, Doctor?” Lydia asked. “You’ve been here for only two… three months?”

“Three,” Stiles piped up automatically. Everyone stared at him and Derek’s mouth quirked in a way that seemed like he wanted to smile. “I mean, Mrs. McCall said so… er, right?”

“Yes, three months, and work has been extremely busy, but good. It makes me wonder how Nurse McCall and all the staff managed to keep things running smoothly with the few help they have,” Derek said. “How’s Jackson by the way?”

Stiles couldn’t help chuckling and Lydia punched him hard on the arm. Jackson, Lydia’s boyfriend, was a total jock and he had been in the hospital twice in the last month alone from soccer injuries. He actually just got out of the hospital a few days ago.

“He’s good. He knows to lay off the ankle or else I’d kick him in the face,” Lydia said. Stiles was almost tempted to comment but everyone knew Lydia was the only one allowed to talk smack about her boyfriend. “And he does thank you for helping him out, even if he bitches about. I hope your other patients have been a lot nicer to you.”

“Well, the ones I actually got to talk to,” Derek said. “Most of the people I meet are usually in pain, sick, or worse, so there’s not much to talk about.”

Derek made a joke and Stiles couldn’t help snickering softly. Derek seemed pleased with that, giving him a small grin. Stiles couldn’t help grinning back, like they were sharing a private joke.

“Well, I guess that makes conversing difficult.” Stiles said.

There was a beat of silence before Lydia coughed.

“Anyway, we should go…” Lydia trailed off.

“I’ll see you around,” Derek said, nodding.

“Later, Danny, Boyd,” Stiles called out to the male, who raised a hand in reply.

When Stiles got back to his table, Jill was already giving him a judgmental look, while Robbie was reclining on his chair with an amused grin on his face.

“I know right?” Lydia muttered, answering their silent questions. She sat down beside Jill.

“Stiles, for god’s sake.” Jill hissed, swatting him on the arm.

“Shut up. Don’t you guys start,” Stiles muttered, tossing himself on his chair and placing the tray on the table. “It’s not like that.”

“Not like that, my ass,” Jill said. “That was your chance!”

Stiles groaned. “What is it with everyone suddenly having an interest in my love life? I don’t have a love life. This thing with Derek is just some crush or whatever. Who doesn’t find doctors hot? Especially doctors who look like that? So quit it.”

Lydia pinched him on the arm and Jill kicked his foot. The two then started muttering to themselves, most likely talking about Stiles and his inability to talk to Derek.

Robbie nudged Stiles’ shoulder and murmured, “You might be interested to know that Danny’s showing him your drawing.”

Stiles looked and indeed Derek had his drawing on hand as Danny packed up some deserts in a paper bag. Derek seemed to have asked a question about it and Danny answered, grinning.

Stiles watched Derek look at it. He could remember every single thing about Danny's drawing. It was far from his best work. It was just a raw sketch, done with a quick and steady hand since he was pretty used to drawing Danny to curry favors once in a while. Stiles fidgeted. He could have drawn Danny’s hair much better or refined the shading to accentuate Danny’s profile. He could have done a lot more.

Even from this distance he could see Derek’s face go over the drawing slowly, as if he was actually taking in every detail. The corner of his lip quirked up into a smile and Stiles couldn’t help the slow trickle of warmth down his spine. Maybe it wasn’t that bad if it managed to get a smile out of Derek.

Robbie nudged his shoulder again and Stiles saw his small smile. “Stiles–”

“No, it’s nothing. I guess he just kinda liked it,” Stiles said, pushing his glasses up his nose.

“I think he more than liked it,” Robbie commented softly.

Stiles chose not to answer that.

He grabbed his green sketchbook and pulled out the pencil from the binding. He opened it to a fresh page, making sure to hide some of the finished ones. Knowing the others were probably trying to take a peek, Stiles stopped the urge to draw what he wanted to and instead started a sketch of Boyd.

And if he stayed up until half-past two in the morning later on trying to dredge up the memory of Derek’s smile to capture on paper, well, that was his secret never to tell.

* * *

Friday rolled around and Stiles was practically vibrating from head to toe.

They were planning on going on a camping trip and everyone was excited. Fran was arriving tonight from L.A., claiming that she really wanted to get in the fresh air, exercise, and get out of the sky-high heels she always wore. Robbie and Jill were the outdoorsy ones in the family who actually liked camping. This was Ben’s fourth camping trip so far in comparison to his older siblings. Their Dad wanted to get some bonding time with his children. And Stiles was looking forward to some nature-themed inspiration that he can use for his artworks.

Stiles was glad he only had morning classes that day, so by lunch time he was running off to one of the nearby fast food joints to meet Scott. They hadn’t had much bro time since Scott and Allison decided to love together about six months ago. Scott was also busier than Stiles these days, what with classes and his part-time job as a veterinarian’s assistant in preparation for taking up veterinary medicine the next year.

Stiles didn’t begrudge his buddy anything. Stiles adored Allison like a sister and he had his family, Danny, Boyd, Lydia, and even Jackson, keeping him company. But Scott was still his honorary brother and Stiles would bend over backwards to spend time with him.

“Mi amigo!” Stiles shouted, crashing into Scott as soon as he spotted him. His eyeglasses almost went flying.

Scott laughed, hugging him tight. “Hey buddy!”

They chatted and laughed like the excited boys they were as they walked inside. By the time they have their burgers, a mountain of fries, and extra-large drinks, they had to stop and take a breather from catching up.

Scott popped a handful of fries into his mouth. Stiles noted that he made sure to wipe his greasy fingers on a napkin before reaching over to pluck the green sketchbook peeking out from Stiles’ backpack. He was one of the handful of people Stiles allowed to look at his sketchbooks and he was thankful his best friend took that seriously.

“Number twelve and almost full,” Scott murmured, noting the number on the spine. He started at the first page. “How are your artworks coming in?”

Stiles grinned. “Got a few commissions, actually. I got about three from my website, plus Heidi asked me for a piece for her mom’s birthday. She drew up the design for it, but I’m still figuring out the paint scheme and how to tweak it and make it look not so boring – don’t tell Heidi I said that, though – so I’m thinking of maybe giving it a nature theme. Total coincidence and perfect timing that we’re going camping.”

“Sounds great.” Scott grinned at his friend’s enthusiasm. “Allison told me she had some of her friends check out your site a couple of days ago. They were really impressed and there were two who were pretty interested when she told them you were willing to do artworks. Hopefully this means you get more business coming.”

“Really?” Stiles bounced up and down on his seat. “Allison is a goddess! Ugh! Tell her I love her and my offer still stands to make her any artwork she wants for free for the rest of her life.”

Scott laughed. “She is still madly in love with that portrait you made for her and loves showing it off when she has the chance. Plus, I’m sure she’ll say that she’d pay you even if you’re willing to do it for free. You know how much she loves you.”

Stiles smiled, remembering the portrait he made for Allison two years ago. It was a marvel of a thing painted by hand – literally by all ten fingers and nails and his palms, as well as one occasion where he needed to use his bent elbow – with an earthy color scheme of browns, yellows, reds and golds. It was made from the memory of Allison laughing at one of Scott’s jokes just before she kissed him, the one moment Stiles knew his best friend finally found _the one_.

Scott stopped, scanning his work. “Is this your first of him?”

He motioned at the sketch he stopped at, one of Derek when Stiles first caught sight him at the hospital after Ben’s accident. Derek had his back turned and only half of his face was seen. Most of the drawing was actually of his broad back and doctor’s coat.

Stiles choked on his fries. “Wait! No! Not that!” He made to grab the sketchbook.

Scott pulled it away with a snicker. “It was just a question. You get embarrassed so quickly at every mention of De-”

Stiles literally lunged for him this time, slapping his hand over Scott’s mouth and most of his face. “Shut it! What if someone hears you?”

Scott rolled his eyes and pushed Stiles away. “You’re exaggerating. And even if they did hear, come on dude. I think practically everyone in town knows you got this massive crush on him.”

Stiles sputtered indignantly. “Shut up.”

“Have you talked to him?” Scott asked, as he looked at more drawings, some of them of the Stilinski family, his Dad's deputies, some of Lydia, Danny, Boyd, one caricature of Jackson with horns and fangs, one of Scott, and… quite a fair few of Derek. “You do know that the first step to establishing a relationship with someone is to actually engage in face-to-face conversation?”

Stiles scoffed. “Oh sure, as if you just went up there and asked Allison out back in the day.”

“Yeah.” Scott rubbed his neck with a huff of embarrassment. “So I’m not the best example. Still, you should talk to him, dude. Like, go visit my mom at the hospital or something and make conversation with him. You talk nonstop half the time and you’re the most fun person I know, so it’s a wonder you can’t talk to Derek.”

Stiles groaned. “Ugh, bro, the dude’s so out of my league, and no way is a guy like that even gay.”

“We can ask Isaac.” Scott bit into his burger.

Stiles shook his head. “No way, dude. That’s going to be like the most awkward conversation ever. We can’t just go up to them and ask, ‘hey, we just wanted to know if your incredibly hot cousin has any chance of hooking up with a guy? i.e. Stiles.” He snorted.

“Why not?” Scott shrugged. “I’m not kidding. Or maybe we can just ask Erica. She’s more forward.”

“Can we not, dude? Seriously. I’m getting a heart attack just thinking about it.” Stiles winced.

Scott gave him a look and nodded. “Fine. Be a coward for all I care.”

Stiles threw a handful of fries at his face for that.

They spent the rest of the time hanging out, went to some of the stores, and even tossed around a football in the park. By the time it was a quarter to four, they were piling into Scott’s car to go and fetch Ben from school.

Stiles and Scott waited by the parking lot, occasionally making conversation with some of the parents, kids, and families. It was one of the nicest things about their town; everybody knew one another.

Stiles kept his eyes peeled, looking out for Ben. He perked up as he saw a familiar face.

“Ms. G!” He bounced over to the woman as she was making her way to her car.

Ms. Grant was the school’s elderly art teacher. She’d been teaching for decades, long enough that all of the Stilinski children passed through her kindly gaze. She’s their favorite teacher even though it was apparent that Stiles was her favorite among them, as evidenced by how she easily offered to became his art mentor.

“Hello, my Genim,” Ms. Grant said, smiling and accepting a huge hug from Stiles. She called all of the Stilinskis hers, and also called them by their complete first names. “How are you?”

Stiles smiled, straightening his glasses. “I’m doing really great. Fran’s coming home and we’re going camping this weekend.”

“Ah yes, Benjamin told me. It would be good to have Francine home. Do be careful my dears. We’ve been having rain the past few nights and it might make your trek difficult.” Ms. G patted his arm. 

“We'll be careful, Ms. G,” Stiles nodded. “How about you? The cold and rain not getting to you, I hope.”

“These old bones are fine, dear boy. Continuing on with my artworks, as I hope you have been doing.” Ms. G smiled. “Mrs. Martin has been trying to buy one of my works. I do adore her and Lydia, but she is rather insistent on a piece that is just not hers.”

Stiles nodded in understanding. Ms. G wasn’t against selling her works. She always said that given how old she was and without family of her own, she would rather her works found new homes before she got even older. However, she was a bit critical on the recipients as she always felt like some people _match_ a certain piece better than others.

“I think it’s because Mrs. Martin is just a really big fan and your works really are extraordinary,” Stiles said.

Ms. G kissed his cheek at that. “How is your artwork coming along? You haven’t shown me any new ones this month.”

Stiles frowned. “Sorry about that. I have a few commissions for some of the folks around town and even out of town, really, and I’m making clay models for a new work I wanted to try. Once I’m done, I’ll make sure to drop by and show you.”

“I would love that,” she said.

Stiles saw Ms. G off to her car and when he got back, Scott had found Ben and the two were talking and laughing.

Benjamin Stilinski was the eleven-year-old baby of the family. Everyone loved him, absolutely everyone.

“Stiles!” Ben jumped towards him, hugging him around the middle. Even Stiles knew that he had always been Ben’s most favorite older sibling. “Guess what?”

“What?” Stiles asked, ruffling his brother’s hair.

“I got the highest mark in Math today!” Ben crowed.

“That’s great!” Stiles grinned, lifting his brother up in a hug. “You know what that means, right?”

“Robbie’s lasagna and pineapple upside down cake! Just like he promised me!” Ben bounced up and down.

Scott groaned. “Oh, that sounds good.”

“Fran likes lasagna too, so Robbie can make it for when she gets home tonight. And he can make extra for Scott and Allison!” Ben said.

Scott was absolutely delighted at that and he ruffled Ben's hair fondly. “Thanks, bud!”

“Oh yeah! And Dad told me to remind you of something,” Ben said as they got into Scott’s car. He dug into his backpack and pulled out a list. “You forgot the list this morning.”

“Oh yeah! Sorry!” Stiles took it, scanning the content. “We need to restock our first-aid kit for our camping trip tomorrow. I totally forgot Dad asked me to,” he told Scott.

Scott checked his watch. “I can drop you guys off at the hospital since I’m meeting my mom anyway, but I gotta pick up Allison so you gotta find someone to take you guys home.”

“It’s ok. Robbie can take us home.” Stiles brought out his phone. “I’ll text Robbie so he can get groceries and pick us up on the way home and tell him to make a lot extra for everyone.”

A few minutes later, Scott was pulling up into the hospital parking lot. As soon as the car stopped, Ben was already climbing out.

“Ben!” Stiles shouted. “Where are you–”

“I’m off to see Nurse McCall!” Ben shouted back, already running off.

“Ok, but don’t–”

“And Dr. Hale!”

Stiles stomach plummeted. Shit. He forgot. He whipped around at Scott, glaring at him.

“Don’t look at me like that. I forgot.” Scott was grinning far too widely for Stiles to believe that.

* * *

A few minutes in and Stiles ended up by himself. Scott had gone to see his mom and Stiles wasn’t able to find Ben, who was probably going around saying hi to some of the nurses, doctors and patients he knew. Stiles knew he didn’t have to worry about him. Everyone knew to look after the Sheriff’s youngest and Ben was a sweet kid who knew not to be a bother. Stiles could ask one of the nurses page him later.

Stiles scratched his head as he read the list in his hand, almost dislodging his glasses. He murmured to himself as he walked up and down the aisles, putting things into his basket. He was in the middle of wondering how much sterile gauze pads was needed for six people – though god forbid all of them ended up injured, but it was better to be safe than sorry – when someone called his name.

“Stiles?”

Stiles fumbled with the box of gauze in surprise. He looked up and Derek was walking over.

“Did I surprise you? Sorry about that,” Derek said, giving him a polite smile.

“It’s ok, Doc. I… um… I was in my head.” Stiles rubbed the back of his neck.

Derek looked at the gauze in Stiles’ hand and then at his basket. Stiles was looking so closely at him that he saw the way his face turned from relaxed and loose into what was probably his ‘doctor face’, a slight frown, brows furrowing, and expression closed off.

“Is someone injured?” he asked, voice taking on a professional tinge.

Stiles shook his head quickly to placate him. “No, no! Don’t worry! It’s nothing like that! We’re just restocking our first-aid kit.”

Derek looked surprised by that and a bit pleased.

Stiles went on. “We have four kits in the house, actually. Having five of us around, my parents got used to patching up every scrape, cut, bruise, and bite. In fact, we all know how to, even Ben.” He motioned to his basket. “Fran is coming home tonight and the entire family’s going camping for the weekend. With five of us running around, I bet you someone’s gonna get a scrape or two.”

Derek winced. “It has been raining the last couple of nights. You guys should be careful on the trek.”

“We’ll be peachy. Don’t worry,” Stiles said.

“I’m a doctor. It’s normal for me to worry.” Derek rubbed his neck. He gave him a small smile and Stiles felt his face flush a little at the expression.

Stiles looked down at his dirty sneakers and tugged the edge of his brown cardigan. “So um… yeah, just grabbing some stuff.” He wrinkled his nose at the list in his hand. “A lot of stuff actually, though god forbid we all end up getting injured.”

“Need a hand?” Derek asked, peeking at the list. “And before you ask, it’s been a slow day and I’m on break.” He smiled.

“Yeah! That’ll be a big help!” Stiles bounced on his heels, pushing his glasses up his nose with his thumb.

The two of them continued down the aisle, looking for some of the items on Stiles’ list. Derek was very methodical, precise, and very good at his job. He gave Stiles tips on each bandage, ointment, cream, tape, splint, and medication. Stiles had to replace some of the stuff he already picked out, picking other items on Derek’s advice. He couldn’t help feeling so mesmerized by the way Derek thought things out thoroughly, always accounting for the fact that there were six of them in the family, one of whom was young enough that he would prefer the non-stinging antiseptic wipes.

Stupid attractive doctor with his stupid face and stupid beard and stupid kindness making Stiles’ heart flutter.

“So, Fran, she’s your eldest, right?” Derek asked as Stiles debated between a Batman band-aid and a Disney Princess one. As much as he’d enjoy seeing Ben with Sleeping Beauty on his shoulder or Robbie with Ariel on his chin, he wouldn’t want Jill to kick up a fuss.

“Francine Stilinski, our queen with the sky-high heels.” Stiles snickered. “A bit of a joke there ‘cause Robbie’s tallest, I come in second, Jill is already just a few inches shorter, and we’re expecting Ben to shoot up. We’re pretty sure she’s gonna end up shortest of us.” He tossed the Batman bandaid into his basket. “Fran works in L.A as an editorial assistant, though there are talks of a promotion for her. She’s kind of a big deal there.”

“I heard. Some of the staff and patients here talk a lot about your family,” Derek said. “Not that they had anything bad to say. I meant that your family is quite well thought of.”

“Thanks,” Stiles said, smiling. “Probably since Dad’s sheriff and everybody in town babysat us at one point or another. We’re one of the largest families in town, apart from Mrs. Simmons at Cleft Street with her seven cats.”

“That, and your talents are talked of quite a lot,” Derek said, handing Stiles a small packet of cotton balls. “Your Dad’s a good sheriff, Fran works for a good company, Robbie’s a cook, and Jill’s really good at… was it piano?”

“Piano, drums, guitar, and one of her goals is to learn the flute and violin in a year. Crazy kid,” Stiles said, unable to help the pride in his voice.

Derek chuckled. “Quite a tall order. And then there's you.”

Stiles tilted his head to the side. “Me what?”

“I’ve been hearing about your artworks around town,” Derek said, curiosity radiating from his eyes. “In fact, I’ve seen a few of them.”

“You have?”

Derek nodded. “Some of the patients bring it with them, like Roy Peterson and the keychain with the lion you molded for him and Barry Allen and the drawing you did of his daughter. There were also the few times I did house visits, like Lily Albert showed off the cartoon strip you drew for her birthday and how you painted a mural for Jory Miller’s room after his cancer scare.”

Stiles was really proud of his works. If he wasn’t, or if he felt they were in some way inadequate, he wouldn’t have given them to or done them for others. But still, he hoped Derek didn’t think they were amateurish or anything.

“You’re really good,” Derek said, looking straight at Stiles with a small quirk of his mouth, as if he was stating a fact or some absolute truth. “I haven’t seen a lot of your works, but I liked everything I've seen so far. They’re lovely.”

Stiles’ face flamed at that, his neck and ears and upper chest heating up and turning awfully red in the way it did when he was either really, really pleased, or really, really embarrassed. Now it was a little bit of both as he was incredibly happy Derek liked it and also embarrassed that he couldn’t hide the large, toothy grin he knew was on his face right now.

“Really?” he asked, his voice pitchy. “That’s great! I mean, I’m really, really glad you like them. Some of them take only days while some take weeks, but everyone always seems happy with what I put out. I try to make them fit, like some people like the cartoony stuff better and some like them all life-like.”

Derek looked a bit surprised at the reaction and onslaught of emotion he caused, but he smiled large enough to show the dimple on his left cheek. “A lot of people go on about it and I know some people around town who want to get a work from you.”

Stiles rubbed the back of his neck, feeling the hot skin and furiously tried to get himself to relax. “Yeah. I would if I could, but in between studying and not having enough art supplies, I can’t always–”

“Der!”

They both jumped up, Stiles knocking his heavy basket against his own hip by accident. They turned around to see a head of blonde curls and a large smile.

“Isaac.” Derek raised a hand in greeting.

Isaac jogged over to them, smiling brightly. “Hey, Der. Someone’s looking…” He paused, looking at Stiles. “Oh, hey, Stiles! Didn’t see you there, but just my luck…”

“Hey, Isaac.” Stiles said, rubbing his hip. That was going to bruise.

“I think this is yours.” Isaac looked behind him, before gently tugging on someone behind one of the shelves.

Ben appeared, a Twizzler in his mouth and playing with Isaac’s PSP. He brightened up upon seeing Stiles and Derek.

“Hi, Doctor Hale!”

Isaac pulled out a packet of Twizzlers from his pocket and stuck one end in his mouth. “Found Ben in the hall looking for you, Der. Turns out you were right here chatting up Stiles.” Isaac looked between the two of them meaningfully.

Stiles squirmed. He was absolutely certain Danny and Lydia, that devious talkative duo, blabbed about Stiles’ crush to Isaac and Erica. Stiles tried to glare at him, but Isaac was raising an eyebrow at Derek.

Stiles looked away and occupied himself with his brother, who kept on playing on the PSP. “How many Twizzlers have you had?”

“Two,” Ben said, not looking up.

“Well, you can’t have more. You won’t get to eat Robbie’s cooking if you do,” Stiles said. “Have you seen Scott?”

Ben didn’t even pause his game. “He's gone.”

Isaac nodded. “I bumped into him at the parking lot on my way in.”

Stiles sighed. Oh yeah, Scott had to go pick up Allison. You would think he’d say goodbye before hoofing it. He pulled his phone out from his pocket and handed the basket to Ben.

“Take this to the counter, would you?” he told Ben as he checked his messages. “And give Isaac back his PSP.”

“I’ll help the man out,” Isaac said. He grabbed the heavy basket from Stiles and nudged Ben to the counter. He looked back. “You two and Der… um… get on with whatever you were talking about.”

Stiles was a bit too busy checking out his messages to wonder at the reason for Derek’s heavy sigh.

_**From:** Scottie Dog  
**Message:** left already. have fun playing doctor w/ hale. tell me about it l8r._

Stiles deleted that message. Scott was a traitor.

_**From:** King Rob  
**Message:** Bro, already did d groceries b4 I got ur txt. making Ben’s treat  & Fran demanded chicken parmesan. cant leave d house. cant Scott take u guys home? sorry._

Stiles groaned at that, pocketing his phone without replying. “Well, that’s just great,” he sighed.

“Something wrong?” Derek asked.

Stiles rubbed his chin in thought as they headed for the counter where Isaac and Ben were piling up the stuff. “Robbie was supposed to be our ride home, but he’s already cooking and can’t leave the house, and Scott’s already long gone.”

“Don’t have a ride home?” Derek asked. “Where’s your Jeep?”

“Dad took it for Jill’s dentist’s appointment.”

“…I can give you guys a ride home.”

The sudden offer surprised Stiles so much he ended up tripping over his feet and banging his hip against the edge of the counter, the same side he had hit earlier. Ben and Isaac jerked in surprise, even the woman at the counter did.

“Dammit.” Stiles winced, bending over a bit.

“You ok?” Ben asked.

“Sorry!” Derek reached for his forearm and looked at his hip as if he could see through Stiles’ t-shirt.

“I’m good. I’m ok,” Stiles said, not even touching his hip. Now, it was definitely going to bruise. “I just tripped over my own feet, that’s all. Totally used to it.” He tried to hide his grimace.

“Sorry,” Derek said again.

Stiles waved a hand. “It wasn’t because of you and what you said, which is totally cool, though that also caught me off guard, I mean, in a nice way. And I just really trip over my feet a lot, that’s all. Ha-ha. Clumsy me. It’s all good. I’m fine. Don’t worry.”

Derek still looked really sorry. “I just thought I’d help since you need a ride home. I get off work soon anyway.”

Stiles saw Isaac glance between them at that and he fumbled for his wallet to distract himself, accidentally dropping it. Ben took it and handed it to him helpfully and Stiles finally managed to hand the credit card over to the curious woman behind the counter.

“You giving them a ride home, Der?” Isaac asked nonchalantly, though the small smirk on his face definitely meant something. “Fine by me. I actually came by to say that I have to drop by Danny’s place, so you’re on your own on the way home.”

“Dr. Hale’s taking us home?” Ben asked, jumping up. “That means we get to ride in his cool car! Oh, man! That’s sweet! Can I call shotgun?” He bounced right up to Derek, clutching his arm. “Can I, Dr. Hale?”

“Sure thing,” Derek said. Ben’s hand shot up into the air and Derek laughed, low, rumbly, and pleased, and Stiles couldn’t help gaping as Derek grinned at him, “Your loss Stiles.”

“You didn’t have to…”

“It’s no problem,” Derek said. “When will you get home, Isaac?”

Isaac shrugged. “Half past-six probably. Erica’s got a date, by the way.”

Derek nodded. He checked his watch. “I just have to clock out in ten minutes and get my stuff. I’ll see you guys at the lobby.”

“Can I come with you?” Ben asked, bouncing up and down. He looked back at Stiles. “Can I?”

Stiles sighed. “Fine. Just don’t bother, Dr. Hale.” He looked at Derek. “And thanks, really, for…” He motioned to himself, Ben, and the contents of the first-aid kit.

Derek grinned. He rubbed Isaac’s shoulder fondly and walked off with a Ben, who excitedly related the tale about his Math score and the lasagna and desert waiting for him at home.

Stiles was snapped out of his stupor as Isaac moved to stand beside him. He didn’t know what to make of what just happened but there was one thing he knew. He turned to the blonde.

“You can’t possibly be meeting Danny. Danny got off school early for some obscure relative’s birthday. I texted him just this morning.”

Isaac didn’t seem surprised at being called out on his lie. He grinned instead.

“Derek loves his car,” he commented.

Stiles looked at him in confusion.

“He doesn’t let just anyone ride it. In fact, he doesn’t just offer anybody a ride home.”

With that said, he walked off, waving over his shoulder.

* * *

The ride to the Stilinski household was nice, really nice. Ben was in front relishing his shotgun privileges but Derek was very firm about the seatbelt, which Stiles appreciated. Stiles was at the back, his favorite green sketchbook out, making quick outlines and writing down notes here and there so he could draw Derek better. His side profile was something of a marvel, the chiseled jaw, beard, and perfect nose.

Ben was thankfully leading most of the conversation while Stiles was drawing, switching from talking about school, his older siblings, his Dad, and asking Derek about himself. Stiles would be embarrassed, but Derek didn’t seem to mind, gamely answering Ben’s questions.

Thanks to Ben, Stiles now knew that Derek graduated from Columbia University and was really smart, one of the top ten students of his year. He was ridiculously humble about it though, which Stiles found endearing. He was a really big fan of baseball, looking really pleased when Stiles mentioned that his entire family loved the sport. His favorite deserts were brownies and cookie dough ice cream, his favorite subject in school was History, and he wasn’t embarrassed to admit that he liked the occasional romcom movies. He didn’t play video games, but managed to appease the disappointed Ben by saying he loved to read and was into comic books and that he had a soft spot for the Flash and Gambit. His favorite color was green.

“Stiles favorite color is green, too,” Ben said. “Mine’s white and blue.”

“That’s a nice coincidence.” Stiles caught Derek’s eye through the rearview mirror, his expression making Stiles’ heart beat louder.

However, for all his answers, Stiles noticed that Derek’s taboo topics included why he became a doctor or why he decided to move from glamorous New York to boring Beacon Hills.

“How come you’re the only one here at Beacon Hills?” Ben asked as Derek turned down their street.

Stiles had been looking closely at Derek that he could see the way his shoulders tensed a little under his violet dress shirt.

“I have Isaac and Erica,” Derek said, voice softer than his earlier jolly tone. “I’m not alone.”

Ben pursed his lips. “Are Isaac and Erica really your cousins? You don’t share the same surnames.”

Stiles jerked. That was not a good topic of conversation, something Derek, Isaac, and Erica never broached. Erica would only scoff and throw her hair back, not answering. Isaac would shake his head or walk away or both. Derek, who many have asked, even by the Sheriff himself, simply shook his head, claiming it to be a personal matter. While everyone gossiped about it though, Isaac Lahey and Erica Reyes were of legal age. If they consented to stay with Derek, there was nothing anybody could do.

“Ben, buddy, that’s not our–”

“No, they’re not,” Derek said, and Stiles immediately clammed up. Derek met Stiles’ apologetic and panicked gaze from the rearview mirror with a soft smile.

“Isaac and Erica aren’t my actual cousins, but they are family.” Derek glanced at Ben. “My parents are gone. I have an older sister, Laura, and my uncle Peter, but they’re in New York right now. They have really demanding work so they stay there most of the time. My immediate family’s very small. With Isaac and Erica around, it’s not so lonely.”

Ben was quiet, mulling that over for a moment. “But you must be extra mega not-so-lonely right now, right? Because everyone is town is nice, and everyone likes you because you’re a really great doctor, and you probably have lots of friends because you’re really cool, and we’re friends, too right?”

Stiles looked at his baby brother, smiling fondly at him. Ben grew up straight off the bat with a large family and tons of friends-slash-honorary family to talk to or hang out with. The idea of being lonely was something foreign to him. It was because of that upbringing that Ben knew to never let somebody feel that way. It was one of the best things about him.

Ben wasn’t finished though. “So is Stiles, and Robbie, and Jill, and Fran. We’re cool and we’ll be your friends, right?” He looked back at Stiles. “Right?”

Stiles grinned and popped up between the seats, poking Ben’s cheek fondly. “Righty-o, baby bro.” They turned to Derek expectantly.

Derek looked really happy to hear that. He kept his eyes on the road, but smiled at both Stilinskis.

“Yes, of course. I would love that.”

Ben grinned widely, bouncing on his seat.

As soon as Derek parked the car, Ben was a whirl of movement, already taking off his seatbelt in a flash and then clambering off the car.

“Come on, Dr. Hale,” Ben said as he opened the door. “You can see our house.”

Derek shook his head. “I… well… I wouldn’t want to impose.”

“Oh, come on,” Stiles said, grinning. He leaned between the seats and thumped him lightly on the arm. Derek looked back at him and their faces were so close Stiles almost stopped breathing. He swallowed thickly. “I mean, have a drink on us and, I don’t know, like chill for a sec. It’s the least we could do.”

Derek nodded. A small smile blossomed on his face. “I can’t stay for long, but I’d appreciate a drink. Thank you.”

Stiles tried to fight off a goofy grin on his face, completely failing, while Ben let out a whoop and grabbed their bag of purchases before running off into the house.

They got out of the car and Stiles tried not to watch as Derek rolled his shoulders in a little stretch. He looked ridiculously good in his violet dress shirt. He didn’t roll the sleeves up, like he always did, but he did leave the cuffs open and despite having already seen, internally drooled, and even dreamt of Derek’s rather toned forearms, Stiles was practically salivating at just the sight of his strong wrists.

“If you don’t mind my asking, you don’t live at home, right?” Derek asked. “I remember hearing that from Erica and Isaac.”

Stiles shook his head. “Nope. I have my own apartment near the college. Me and Fran are the only ones who don’t live at home while Robbie doesn’t want to leave his perfect kitchen.”

“Not that I don’t appreciate having your own personal space, but why?” Derek looked curious. “Your house is close enough for a back and forth trip home with your Jeep.”

Stiles nodded. “Yep, and I do spend pretty much every weekend here, but my apartment is also my studio. I do my art there.”

Derek looked really impressed. “Wow. That sounds really awesome.”

“Thanks,” Stiles said, smiling weakly. Having his own place was the one accomplishment he was both proud of and ashamed of. But Derek didn’t need to know the truth behind that.

“By the way, Stiles, I’m off duty now,” Derek said as they walked towards the front door.

Stiles made a mental note to berate Ben for leaving the door ajar, before turning to Derek in confusion.

“So you can call me Derek.”

Stiles paused mid-step. He fiddled a little with his glasses, as was his habit. “But that wouldn’t be… I mean…”

“Like I said, I’m off-duty,” Derek said again, looking at Stiles patiently.

Stiles still fumbled at that, ecstatic and delirious at the idea. Actually call Derek by his name? That was a major thing, much more than anybody else who called Derek by just his title and surname.

“If it makes you feel better, I’ll say it this way,” Derek said with a small chuckle. “Stiles, I would prefer it if you called me Derek when I’m not on duty.” He tilted his head to the side. “Even when I’m on duty actually. My surname sounds too formal.”

“But, I mean… why?” Stiles blurted out, before mentally smacking himself on the forehead. “I mean, I’d like that! I would! But…”

“It’s nothing much. I like you, that’s all,” Derek said.

Stiles’ heart stuttered at that as Derek gave him a shrug and a small smile. Stiles was internally lecturing himself not to put too much thought into a few friendly words, but he couldn’t trust his voice to not betray the feeling of glee creeping up his spine.

Stiles smiled, a bit wobbly, and nodded.

Derek seemed pleased with that and motioned to the door. Stiles stepped through the doorway and was immediately met with the smell of mouth-watering pasta. Stiles took a huge lungful. He turned to Derek who had paused to wipe his feet on the door mat. Once Derek took a whiff, his eyes widened.

Stiles grinned at him. “I know, right?”

“Oh, that smells good,” Derek said, taking another breath.

Stiles tore his eyes away from the way Derek’s dress shirt stretched around his deliciously broad chest.

“Anyway, welcome to our house,” Stiles said, acting as tour guide. He led Derek down the small hall straight to the living room. “Two storeys, with all the bedrooms on the second floor. This is the living room. Scott and Lydia keep saying we have a really spacious living room but, trust me, pack all the Stilinskis in here and it is still way too small. I think it’s a family trait how we all move around and fidget so much. It’s crazy.”

Derek looked around, appreciatively humming under his breath. The living room was painted with warm yellows, browns, and peaches with a couch, two love seats, and two beanbags surrounding a large round wooden coffee table laden with magazines, DVDs, books, and papers. Hanging on the wall to the left was a large-screen TV, towering over a few speakers, several players, and various game consoles. The wall across the front door was divided between the floor-to-ceiling shelves and a sliding glass door leading to the backyard. The space to the right contained an upright piano and a guitar stand containing an acoustic guitar. The wall beside it called to the eyes, looming in an explosion of pictures frames and knick knacks.

Stiles noticed Derek looking and grinned, tugging his wrist. “Jill named it the Stilinski Wall of Everything. I could show–”

“Stiles!” Robbie’s voice carried from the hall to their left.

“We’ll be there in a sec!” Stiles looked at Derek, who was still staring at the wall. “Sorry, but Robbie’s…”

“No, it’s fine,” Derek said, whipping around to look at him, though Stiles could feel the curiosity emanating from him.

“No biggie. I can show it to you next time,” Stiles said. Realize what he said, he backtracked. “I mean, you could if you want. It’s just a wall, but you could totally look at it. Everyone who comes to our house always stares at that wall. Even Scott still gets kinda mesmerized by it and he’s seen that like a million times. So I can show it you if you drop by. I mean, not like just drop by, as in randomly, but I mean, not that we would mind you here in our house, but we could–”

Derek, obviously noting Stiles discomfort, gently cut in, “You can show me if I get another chance to drop by. We’ll see how it goes.”

Stiles could work with that, with the way Derek said it. Yeah, he could. He nodded quickly.

It was only then that Stiles noticed that he was still oddly clinging to Derek’s wrist. If he took his hand away, Derek would notice, but if he kept his hand there, Derek would still notice. Before he could embarrass himself further, he nodded one last time and decidedly tugged Derek by the wrist towards the kitchen.

The other room was their combined kitchen and dining room divided by a minibar and was about twice the size of the living room. Their dining room was a light baby blue with a wooden ten-seater dining set. There was a heavy-duty oak cabinet of fine china and also a few picture frames at the corner of the room.

Stiles led Derek past the dining room and the minibar where Robbie was manning the kitchen as he always did, his flowing locks tied into a small ponytail. Ben was seated on the counter snacking on one of Robbie’s leftover double chocolate chip cookies.

“Ben already had four Twizzlers,” Stiles said.

“I didn’t, you snitch!” Ben gasped.

“Isaac told me, you little liar,” Stiles said as he waved to Derek to sit on one of the bar stools.

Robbie rounded on the youngest Stilinski. “You only get one cookie, Ben, especially if you want a slice of cake later. You know what happens if you get more sugar than you can handle. You won’t be able to get any sleep for tomorrow’s camping trip.”

“And too much sugar is bad for you, Ben,” Derek piped up, much to Robbie’s pleasure and Stiles’ amusement.

“See? Even the doctor said so,” Robbie said.

Ben pouted and looked at his cookie. He stomped off to his room. “Fine.”

“He’ll get over it,” Stiles assured Derek, snickering.

“Anyway, Dr. Hale! Hi!” Robbie grinned. There was a streak of sauce on one cheek and on his collar. “Welcome to my kitchen, and thanks for taking my brothers home.”

“Hey, Robbie, and it wasn't a big deal,” Derek said. He looked around at the kitchen, spacious and homey with light yellow walls. It was equipped with almost every kitchen utensil and equipment a budding chef would need and then some.

“Do you want anything?” Stiles asked as he headed for the refrigerator. “We have freshly squeezed OJ, iced tea, cola, beer, gatorade, or plain old water.”

“Iced tea’s fine,” Derek said. “Thank you.”

Stiles grabbed some orange juice for himself and sat down beside Derek, watching the way his Adam’s apple bobbed. Stiles almost poured his drink on himself as Derek licked his lips.

“So Robbie,” Stiles said, noting Robbie’s raised eyebrow. Stiles did a do-not-say-anything-shut-up brow raise. “What’s cooking?”

Robbie coughed, ignoring Stiles’ glare. “I got lasagna and pineapple upside down cake, as requested by Bennie-boy and I also got Fran’s chicken parmesan.” He grinned at Stiles. “You will be happy to know I made some chicken, veggie, and beef quesadillas and baby veggie burgers, mostly to finish off what’s left in the fridge. I’ll make you some chili and buffalo wings next week, Stiles, so we can complete the whole Mexican theme.”

“Yes!” Stiles pumped a fist in the air. “I love you, Robbie. Seriously.”

“Mexican food is your thing, huh?” Derek asked, grinning at Stiles.

“I’ll eat anything, honestly,” Stiles said, with a laugh. “But I have this thing for Robbie’s chili.”

“Also, to apologize for not being a more accommodating host, Dr. Hale, and also to thank you for looking after my brothers,” Robbie said, as he moved fluently around the kitchen. “I do have something for you, Isaac, and Erica.”

Derek shook his head. “Oh no, you don’t have to, I–”

“I insist!” Robbie said, eyes widening with the joy of what he was doing. “And besides, I already have it packed.” He winked and motioned to several containers on one of the counters.

“That’s… a lot,” Derek said.

“It’s all good,” Robbie said. “I got baby veggie burgers for you guys and the first batch of quesadillas I made – veggie, beef, and chicken so you can get a taste of them all – and also some of the double chocolate chip cookies I made last night.”

“That’s… a lot,” Derek repeated with a laugh.

Robbie grinned at Derek. “I’m still waiting on the pasta to cook, but we’ll save some for you guys, and for Scott and Allison. I always make enough for like, two dozen people. Honestly.” He bustled about, humming to himself.

Derek turned to him and Stiles couldn’t help snickering into his hand at the expression on his face. Derek knocked their shoulders together with a low chuckle.

“Seriously though, this is a lot.”

Stiles leaned over to him, “Robbie likes this kind of stuff. Not really being showy and all that, but he just really likes feeding people. Let him.”

Derek looked back at Robbie, the cook flitting about his massive kitchen with an air of joy.

“Ok,” Derek said softly. There was a sudden chirp and Derek pulled out his phone. “Oh, excuse me.”

Stiles nodded and watched as Derek took the call. It was obviously related to work as his ‘doctor face’ was on. Stiles left him to it, sliding off his stool, and decided to pack away Robbie’s containers of food for the Hales.

“How sweet,” Robbie murmured under his breath as he leaned over Stiles to get something from the cabinet. “While the doctor takes calls, the lovely househusband gets the meal all packed up and ready. Will you be adopting Isaac and Erica, too?”

Stiles elbowed him in the ribs. “Shut up.”

“Bro, the smell of your pining is overpowering the smell of my pasta.” Robbie rolled his eyes.

“Shut up,” Stiles hissed. “And I’m not pining.”

“I beg to differ,” Robbie said, ducking when Stiles made to hit him on the face. “Well, whatever, but don’t make it too obvious. It’s not cool.” He laughed and nudged his hip against Stiles.

Stiles hissed, grabbing his side. “Aww, shit.”

Robbie almost dropped a bowl. “What?”

Derek was suddenly there, a hand on Stiles’ forearm, his ‘doctor face’ turned on full-blast. “What happened?”

“Nothing, just…” Stiles rubbed his hip lightly. “I hit my hip twice earlier.” He winced, accidentally pressing a bit too far.

Robbie walked forward. He grabbed the edge of Stiles’ shirt.

“Woah, woah, woah. Don’t.” Stiles tried to bat him off but, trapped between Robbie and Derek, he had no choice as Robbie lifted his shirt just a tad to show his left hip. The skin was already turning from pale white to a sickly combination yellow and green.

“And you happen to bruise like nobody’s business, bro,” Robbie sighed, worry creasing his forehead. “My god.”

Derek was still hovering and he used his grip on Stiles’ forearm to steer him sideways. Stiles now had most of the front of his body pressed against Derek’s side, exposing his hip.

“We should get some ice on that,” Derek said in his doctor’s voice.

“Ok! Ok! Will do, Doc!” Stiles said, shaking Derek off. The proximity was stifling him. He felt his face heat up faster than he could try and tamper it down.

Derek let go in a flash, taking a few steps back as Stiles half-lunged for the refrigerator to get some ice.

“So…” Derek cleared his throat after a beat of silence. “I actually have to go.”

“Oh?” Stiles looked up from half-immersing his flaming face into the freezer and looking for ice.

“Sudden house visit for a patient.” Derek shrugged. “Well, patients actually, plural.” He looked over at Robbie. “Seeing you in action has been a sight, Robbie, and thank you for the food.”

Robbie handed Stiles a clean rag before shaking Derek’s hand warmly. “Oh, wait until you get a taste of my food, Dr. Hale. You will soon be kissing the ground I walk on.”

Derek laughed as Robbie handed him the small bag of goodies. “Thank you, really. Isaac and Erica will love this.”

“No problemo,” Robbie said, grinning widely. “I’ll be seeing you.”

“I’ll see Dr. Hale out,” Stiles said, wrapping a block of ice with the rag and pressing it to his hip with a wince. Before Derek could comment, Stiles shook his head, “I’m good. Come on. You better say goodbye to Ben.”

“Derek.”

Stiles looked back at him as they walked back to the living room. “Hm?”

Derek tilted his head to the side. “Off duty, remember?”

“Oh.” Stiles’ eyes widened. “Yeah.” He fidgeted a little. “Um… Now?”

Derek gave him an expectant and amused look in reply.

“Oh. So. We’re starting now. That’s cool. I can. Yeah. Why not now? Um.” Stiles cleared his throat. “Ben! Dr. Derek… Derek… Doctor… Ben, Derek’s leaving!”

“That wasn’t so hard, was it?” Derek laughed.

Stiles wasn’t able to answer as Ben bounded down from the second floor with a grin, having forgotten his earlier conundrum with the sugar.

“See you, Dr. Hale!” Ben said. “Thanks for taking us home.”

“Sure thing. You guys enjoy your camping trip.” Derek patted him on the shoulder.

Ben gave him a toothy grin and ran back to the kitchen, probably to get Robbie to give him more dessert now that the doctor’s leaving.

“This was nice,” Derek said, smiling at Stiles.

“Yeah, it was.” Stiles grinned back, flinching a little as the ice on his hip dripped down his pelvic bone. He wiped it off.

“Just keep on icing that and if anything hurts, call me,” Derek said, tilting his head at the bruise.

“Thanks. Safe drive.” Stiles waved as Derek jogged off down the drive.

Stiles closed the door as soon as Derek’s Camaro revved off, Derek waving an arm through the window. Stiles ran through the house towards the dining room, shouting.

“You did that on purpose!”

“What?” Robbie asked, holding the jar of cookies high above the head of a whining Ben.

“My… when you… my shirt…”

“Whatever you’re accusing me of, say pulling up your shirt in the presence of your dream doctor, that was not my intention,” Robbie said. “And no more cookies, Ben!”

“Yes, it was!” Stiles shouted. “You are totally devious enough to jump at that chance just because I injured myself!”

“I was legitimately concerned!” Robbie countered.

“Does Stiles have a crush on Dr. Hale?” Ben asked, looking at his brothers in confusion.

“Stiles, if I didn’t take the chance, you certainly wouldn’t,” Robbie scoffed. “And yes, Ben. Stiles totally has a crush on Dr. Hale. They’re even on first name terms now.” At Stiles’ affronted look, Robbie rolled his eyes. “I heard you shouting his name. Don’t look at me like that.”

“I like Dr. Hale. I don’t mind if you marry him Stiles,” Ben said, leaping up to hang from Robbie’s arm in his hunt for cookies.

Stiles groaned and decided he really hated his brothers.

* * *

It was always total pandemonium whenever Fran returned. It had been six months since her last trip home so the entire family was excited to be complete – with the exception of their late mother, bless her – and was making a total ruckus.

Fran wasn’t exactly a wild child, but having lived at Los Angeles for almost five years now definitely had its influences. Her waist-length brown hair was dyed with auburn highlights; she had three tattoos, plus one below her left breast that only Stiles, Robbie and Jill knew; and her skin was a gorgeous honey-brown in contrast to the trademark Stilinski pallor. Despite all that, Fran was still her straight-forward, no-nonsense self, and was all loud laughter, putting her feet up, and dishing out the jokes like there was no tomorrow.

Ben, Jill, Stiles, and their Dad, John, were laughing loudly as Fran related one of her way-out work stories. Their Dad was at the head of the table, with Jill and Stiles at his right and Ben, Fran, and Robbie at his left. Robbie was moving back and forth between the kitchen and the dining table.

“It was crazy!” Fran shouted, waving her arms and almost hitting her glass of iced tea.

“It was your idea,” Jill laughed, taking a bite of her veggie burger. “You’re crazy.”

“What did your editor say?” John asked, handing Ben some more quesadillas.

Fran smirked. “I got a congratulations and a few days of paid vacation, which means I’ll be able to watch a certain someone’s school play next month.”

“Awesome!” Stiles shouted, pumping a fist in the air.

Ben stood up, eyes wide and excited. “You promise?”

“I promise.” Fran laughed. “I’d take the six-hour drive any day for you.”

Ben ran around the table, throwing himself right at Fran.

“That’s great news!” John said, grinning widely at his children.

Dinner continued on in the same thread. More stories, laughter, teasing, and joking as more of Robbie’s food was consumed.

“Robert Stilinski, this is glorious.” Fran groaned around her bite of chicken parmesan. “You get better every single time.”

Robbie laughed. “Thanks, Fran. And it’ll just be my luck if I nab that Manhattan internship.”

“If those Manhattan cooks don’t sign you up, I will take a flamethrower and a machete to them, seriously,” Fran said.

The pineapple upside down cake was consumed while watching The Incredibles in the living room. Fran commandeered a loveseat, while Robbie and their Dad shared the couch with Ben snuggled under his father’s arm. Stiles was on the floor, leaning against a beanbag with Jill pillowed against his side.

“I used to design for gods!” All Stilinski kids quoted along with the movie, Fran waving her fork in the air like a sword, Ben bouncing on the couch, Robbie calmer but gamely joining in, and Jill and Stiles both raising hands in the air in proclamation.

“No capes!” Ben shouted, launching himself from his father’s arm and straight on top of Stiles and Jill.

They all giggled, high on good food, sugar, and the warmth of family.

Once the movie ended, they all dispersed. Stiles and Jill had dish washing duty. Ben, Fran, and Robbie got first dibs on the bathrooms, while their Dad reclined in the living room watching the news.

Stiles was on rinsing duty and he and Jill work in tandem, chatting all the while.

“You gotta pick just one,” Stiles insisted. “You can’t possibly learn the flute and the violin at the same time. You’re still alternating between guitar and bass. You’ll kill yourself.”

Jill flicked a few suds at him. “Shut up! I totally can! And you know I’ve gotten more badass with the bass.”

“You know what they say, kid: jack of all trades, master of none.” Stiles put away some of the glasses.

“That’s true.” Robbie walked in, fresh from his shower, shirtless, and running a towel through his hair. “You might be stretching yourself too thin. You still have those auditions next month.”

Jill pouted sullenly. “You know I can do it!”

“Of course, you can,” Stiles said soothingly. “But you can hold off the violin and flute next year at least.”

Robbie padded over to them and started grabbing some tupperwares and containers. He started packing away the rest of the food.

“Don’t forget that we have to drop this off at the hospital first thing tomorrow,” Robbie said. “I’m divvying this up between Scott, his mom, and Allison, and Dr. Hale, Erica, and Isaac.”

“I am always so amazed by how much food you make,” Stiles said.

“It’s barely cutting it, actually,” Robbie said with a laugh. “The McCalls get the rest of the burgers and quesadillas and most of the pasta goes to the Hales since they’ve gotten a taste of the rest. The cake is, as Ben demands, off-limits.”

“I don’t mind if Dr. Hale had some,” Ben pipes up as he suddenly walked in, already decked out in his white and blue striped pajamas and clutching the new Game of Thrones sweater Fran bought him. “It’ll make Stiles happy.”

Stiles was thankful he was still leaning over the sink when he dropped a bowl. He whipped around. Jill and Robbie burst out laughing.

“Who are we talking about?” Fran asked, walking inside. She was barefoot, with a towel wrapped around her long hair. She was in a man’s oversized shirt, probably from her boyfriend, that fell over her skimpy shorts and the neckline slipping down to reveal the mockingbird tattoo below her collarbone.

“Dr. Hale,” Jill said, not minding the way Stiles’ flicked water right onto the side of her face. “He gets Stiles’ motor revving.”

“Dudes!” Stiles flailed his arms in the air and sent water flying everywhere. Robbie smacked him on the arm for that. “Language! Seriously!”

“Oh, god, really? That Dr. Hale? The really hot one with–” Fran paused and glanced at Ben. “Benny-boo, time for bed.”

Ben pouted. “What? Why?”

Fran smiled, kissing him on the cheek. “Because it’s late and you ate a lot of sugar. If you don’t try to sleep it off now, you won’t wake up tomorrow and we’ll leave you.”

“No, you won’t!” Ben shouted, looking aghast at the mere idea.

“No, we won’t,” Robbie placated their brother. “So get to bed, kiddo.”

Ben frowned, looking around at his older siblings. “You’re just gonna talk about your boyfriends and all that icky stuff, aren’t you?”

“Maybe,” Jill teased, grinning over her shoulder.

“Jill’s not even eighteen yet, but she gets to stay!” Ben shouted. “That’s so unfair!”

Fran patted him on the arm. “Jill will get right to bed after she finishes washing up. She’s not gonna stay here with me, Rob, and Stiles.” Fran sent Jill a secretive look. “You can sleep with me instead, ok Benny-boo? Get your big blanket.”

Ben looked around at them all. He pouted. “Fine. But I don’t want to go to bed yet!” He stomped off, shouting, “Dad, everyone’s ganging up on me!”

As soon as Ben was gone, Fran practically launched herself on the countertop. Stiles felt his stomach drop at the wicked smirk and predatory gleam in her eyes.

“So?” she asked.

“S-So what?” Stiles asked, almost dropping another bowl when Robbie leaned against the refrigerator and Jill pressed up beside him.

“I’ve only met this Dr. Hale once when I last visited like, six weeks ago,” Fran said. “He’s the hot one with the attractive face, the beard, the broad shoulders, and looks like he’d have some killer abs, right?”

“That one,” Jill said with a laugh, “Though he’s the only doctor in Beacon Hills who looks like that.”

Fran giggled. “So? Give me the scoop.”

“There is no scoop!” Stiles protested. “Seriously! There’s nothing going on!”

“Which is exactly the problem,” Robbie said, scoffing. “The man was right here in our kitchen earlier today and the pining was ridiculous.”

Robbie had already recounted the tale of Dr. Hale’s visit to their pleased Dad, who had always liked the young and courteous doctor. Robbie kept it relatively light, wary of Stiles’ long legs under the table trying to kick him in the shin every two minutes. Stiles made sure Ben was kept busy eating though, just in case his baby brother mentioned something to embarrass the hell out of him.

“It wasn’t a big deal!” Stiles put away the rest of the plates before the broke them. “Scott took us to the hospital so I can get all the stuff for the first aid kit, but he couldn’t take us home so Derek offered to. I invited him in because, you know, it’s the polite thing to do, and Robbie wrapped up dinner for him and then Derek left. That is all.”

Jill elbowed him in the ribs. “Oh, sure, that’s all that happened. But since when have you been on first name terms with him?” She grinned at Stiles dirty glare.

Fran cackled. “Well, you’ll get no complaints from me, to be honest. You have good taste, bro. Derek’s absolutely scrumptious.”

Robbie groaned. “Describing people and their bodies as if they were food always turn me off. Please don’t.” They ignored him.

“Have you put the moves on him yet?” Fran asked.

Jill scoffed. “Oh, sure, because Stiles has enough balls for that.”

Stiles, who had been wiping his hand on a rag, tossed it right at Jill’s face. Jill made to retaliate but Fran gave her a warning look.

“Well, I do gather our good doctor was making his own moves,” Robbie said. “Too bad Stiles was dense as cinderblock to notice.”

“He was not, and never will, make a move on me.” Stiles’ protests were getting weaker and weaker with his siblings’ incessant prodding.

Robbie rolled his eyes. “Oh, please. You couldn’t see the way he was eyeing you when you flashed him your hip.”

“You flashed some skin?” Fran asked excitedly. “How daring.”

“Robbie pulled up my shirt when Derek was there.” Stiles glared at him. “And seriously, some personal boundaries would have been nice, you ass.”

“You got a bruise on your hip. I was being a concerned brother,” Robbie protested. “And stop talking as if I was defiling your virtue or whatever.”

“It’s not as if you haven’t gotten your v-card punched yet,” Fran said, toweling her hair. “To both sexes, if we’re being specific.”

Jill snickered. “And you do bruise awfully quick, bro. Dr. Buff was probably imagining leaving bruises all over you during hot, sexy times.”

“Oh my god, guys!” Stiles flushed hard, as Fran and Robbie laughed uproariously.

Fran tucked her legs under her and raised an eyebrow at Stiles. “Moving on. Genim, baby, please, for the love of all that is holy, do something about this crush of yours. I am only home once every few months and I would consider it a nice surprise to catch you making out with that hot doctor of yours. Really. That would be an awesome homecoming present.”

Stiles flushed harder as his siblings laughed at his expense.

There was a sound and they all jerked in surprise when their Dad stuck his head in.

“Chop, chop, kiddos. Don’t forget to double-check your bags. Fran, check Ben’s, would you? We have an early day tomorrow.”

“Yes, Sir!” They all shouted.

“What’s up with the laughter, by the way?” John asked. “Not at Ben’s expense, I am hoping.”

“It wasn’t that,” Fran said, sliding off the counter. “Just some stuff. Is Ben ok?”

“Fell asleep,” John said. “He kept complaining about you four leaving him out.”

“I’ll go get him,” Fran offered. “If he wakes up and sees he wasn’t in bed with me, he’ll get into a fuss.”

John nodded and walked off.

“You guys should learn to shut up,” Stiles muttered. Thank god their Dad didn’t hear anything. “What do I have to do to get you guys off my back?”

“Snag a date with Derek,” Robbie said.

“Get into Derek’s pants,” Jill said.

“Get caught getting into Derek’s pants,” Fran said, kissing Stiles on the cheek.

“Fuck off. I hate you all.”


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There was silence for a moment before Erica let out a sigh. “Anyway, so yeah, I just kinda wanted to make sure you weren’t hating on Der or anything.”
> 
> Stiles shook his head. “Of course, I won’t. Derek’s been nice to me. I don’t think I can hate him.” He shrugged.
> 
> “He likes you, you know,” Erica said slowly.
> 
> Stiles flashed back to a few days back when Derek told him the same thing. He laughed, tampering down a flush. “Of course. I am immensely likeable.”
> 
> Erica scoffed and swatted him on the arm. “That’s not what I meant. I mean…” She paused, taking a breath. “He kinda wants to get to know you.”
> 
> \----
> 
> Isaac simply grinned, not answering. Erica smothered a giggle on Boyd’s shoulder.
> 
> “Why aren’t you two coming with him?” Stiles asked. “I looked it up. All proceeds go to NDSS. It’s a good cause.”
> 
> “What’s NDSS?” Jackson asked, still bitter about his loss.
> 
> “National Down Syndrome Society,” Isaac said. “Derek’s been supporting them for almost a decade now, auction, buddy walk, marathon, outings, etc. He’s pretty dedicated.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Daaaamn. The reception to this has been insane!!
> 
> Thanks so much to everyone. Really. Truly. ^_^

Come Monday morning, Stiles saw the gang waiting by the parking lot even before he parked his jeep. He waved enthusiastically at Scott, Allison, Lydia, and Jackson as he quickly climbed out, grabbing his backpack.

As expected, most of the Stilinskis ended up with a scratch or two during their camping trip. Ms. Grant and Derek were right. The rain made the trail a lot more challenging. Ben had a scratch on his cheek and his shoulder from a tumble into a wall of bramble. Jill had a scratch on the back of her left calf and a bruise blooming at the side from slipping down a wet patch of rock. Fran had a cut on her chin and on her hand from falling over. Robbie was the only one with nary a scratch or a bruise, probably because he ended up slipping and crashing against Stiles, who was now sporting a few scratches on his right arm and ended up banging his hip, for the third time, which now sported a blackened bruise.

Stiles kept his backpack far from his aching hip and slung it over his left instead of his right shoulder.

“Stiles!” Lydia was already tapping her high heels on the pavement. “I have a bone to pick with you!”

Scott laughed loudly at that and Allison had an amused grin on her face.

“Lyds, it is far too early in the morning,” Stiles said, rubbing his eyes under his glasses. “What the hell could I have possibly done to wrong you this early?”

Lydia pouted and poked Scott on the chest. “Scott’s been raving about King Rob’s food! And Erica texted me and told me they got dinner from him too! How about me?”

“And me!” Jackson said, looking very much affronted.

“It’s not my fault,” Stiles scoffed. “It was all for Fran and also for Ben since he got a good grade in Math. Ben was the one who asked Rob to make some for Scott and Allison.”

“And they were mighty delicious, thank you.” Allison kissed him on the cheek with a giggle.

“They really were!” Scott crowed. “Thanks for leaving them before you went camping, dude.”

There was a familiar honk of a car horn and Stiles whipped around. There was Fran, getting out of her car and waving a hand in the air. Stiles jogged over to her, followed by the others. Fran had followed him in the drive from the house to his apartment to college. She was just about ready to hit the road back to L.A.

“Hey, darlings,” Fran said, grinning. She was in a black sleeveless shirt, acid-washed shorts, and brown boots, partnered with a pair of Ray-Ban aviators.

“Fran, you look hot!” Scott bounded over.

“Thanks, Scott.” Fran kissed him on the cheek. Jackson let out an appreciative whistle, to Fran’s pleased laughter. “Hey there, Jackson.”

“You look great, our very independent L.A girl.” Lydia said.

“And your hair looks awesome!” Allison gushed.

“Thank you, thank you.” Fran did a little bow. “It is really good to see you guys.”

“Are you leaving so soon?” Lydia asked, noting the bags at the backseat.

“But we haven’t even hung out yet,” Allison said, pouting.

“Just seeing Stiles off before I take the drive back to L.A.” Fran sighed. “Sorry I couldn’t have looked you guys up before I left. I only had the weekend off.”

“It’s my birthday next month and of course we’re having a party,” Jackson said. “You have got to be there for that instead.”

“Jackson, you are not using my sister as an attraction,” Stiles said, glaring at him.

“I’m sure it’s not like that.” Fran laughed, wrapping her arms around Stiles. “Well, I’ll be back next month for Ben’s school play but I can’t be too sure about any other affairs. No promises, Jackson. But I will be here for Thanksgiving anyway.”

There was a honk of another car and next thing they knew, an all-too familiar Camaro was pulling up.

“Oh.” Fran murmured under her breath, soft enough for only Stiles to hear. “Lady luck is definitely on my side today.”

“Fran, don’t.” Stiles looked back at her.

Fran tucked her aviators at the top of her head and watched as Isaac and Erica exited the vehicle. Following them was none other than Derek himself, dressed to impress in a forest green dress shirt and black pants. Stiles could feel his heart beat faster as Derek seemed to zero in on Stiles with a friendly grin.

“Hi, Dr. Hale!” Lydia and Allison chorused. Scott sent Stiles a blatant smirk, while Jackson snickered and Stiles was tempted to kick them both in the shins.

“I seriously need new friends,” Stiles murmured.

“Morning,” Derek said, stepping close with a small smile on his face. “Hey, Stiles.”

Stiles swallowed. He could feel everyone’s eyes trained on him. He pushed his glasses up his nose to hide the flush he knew was starting.

“Hi Der… er, Dr. Hale,” Stiles said, catching himself in time. He felt the pinch to his hip. “Um… by the way, this is my older sister, Fran.”

“Hello, Dr. Hale! I hope you still remember me,” Fran said, reaching over to shake his hand.

Derek took it with a smile. “Of course. As if I could forget.”

Fran gave him her winning smile. She turned to Isaac and Erica, the latter of whom was quite blatantly giving her a once-over. “And Isaac and Erica, hi.”

“Hi, miss,” Isaac said politely, while Erica waved a hand.

Erica walked over to Allison and Lydia and the three girls none-too subtly started pulling Scott, Jackson, and Isaac along with them at a reasonable distance.

Stiles turned to them. “Where–”

Lydia glared at him and Erica jerked her head in Derek’s direction.

In the end, it was just Stiles and Fran with Derek as the gang stood within hearing distance, but far enough to give them space for whatever the fuck they wanted to happen. Derek and Fran didn’t notice, or if they did, they showed no signs of it.

“It’s been a while,” Derek said. “It’s good to see you back home.”

Fran gave a small smile. “I’m actually just seeing Stiles off before I get on the road. I only had leave for the weekend.”

“How was your camping trip, then?” Derek asked.

Fran pointed at the band-aid on her chin and on her hand. “Best camping trip so far, but everyone got banged up.”

“Except for Robbie,” Stiles cleared. “Only ‘cause he fell right on top of me.”

At that, Derek turned to Stiles, his ‘doctor face’ slowly turning on. “You’re injured?”

“I’m fine,” Stiles said, consciously trying not to rub his injured arm. “Just a scratch.”

“That wasn’t just a scratch,” Fran scoffed. “That was a pretty nasty spill.”

She reached over and grabbed Stiles’ wrist, trying to work down the sleeve of his shirt, and it was just like Robbie exposing his hip all over again without his consent.

“It’s fine, sis.” Stiles stepped back. “Seriously. It’s all good.”

Fran placed her hands on her hips, looking affronted. Whether it was from Stiles shrugging off her sisterly concerns or failing in her plans to expose his arm, Stiles wasn’t sure. And at this point, he didn’t much care.

“That thing on your hip is all green and black, and now you got a wound on your arm,” Fran said. “You are one big bruise, baby bro.”

Derek had his ‘doctor face’ on completely. “Did you hit your hip again?”

Stiles glared at them both, indignation coursing through him. “I’m fine. Jeez. It’s not like I haven’t had worse injuries.”

There was a sound from Derek, a displeased murmur, and Fran scoffed.

“I’m perfectly used to it, but that doesn’t mean I don’t worry.” Her tone was soft, sisterly and concerned. “Especially when we all know you have this thing of not going to the hospital even if you need it.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Derek suddenly piped up. “Why not?”

Stiles wondered how the conversation became all about him. He practically growled out, “I would really appreciate it if we not do this. I don’t want to argue.”

Derek clammed up at that, suddenly uncomfortable. Fran merely sighed. From the corner of his eye, he could see some of his friends watching, his outburst clearly heard. Scott looked ready to approach.

“Anyway, I have to get going,” Stiles said. He turned to Fran and gave her a kiss on the cheek. “Call me when you get to L.A. Have a safe trip.” He turned to Derek. “See you around, Dr. Hale.”

With that, Stiles stomped off to class.

* * *

The rest of the day passed by as it always did, boring and uneventful. Stiles kept his head on his coursework however, trying not to get as distracted as possible, especially from the occasional twitch of his injured arm.

It was halfway through his second class of the day when his phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out under the table.

_**From:** Shortie Fran  
**Message:** Sorry, Gem._

Stiles sighed, feeling a little sick in the stomach. Fran only called her Gem or Genim when she was feeling really sad or guilty. It wasn’t fair to get angry at her since she didn’t really do anything wrong, and especially when she was currently miles away feeling guilty in the middle of traveling.

_**From:** Genim  
**Message:** Sorry too. Call l8r._

When lunch time rolled around, Stiles found himself at the campus grounds seated under a towering tree where he and his friends usually hung out. This time it was just him, Scott, and Allison, with the others still in class or busy doing something else. Scott was busy doing homework with his earphones on while Allison was reading.

Stiles was chewing on the butt end of his pencil as he finished reading the chapter on his textbook. His class after lunch had a killer professor who took recitation seriously. Stiles was doing fairly well in class, but he wasn’t risking anything. As soon as he closed his textbook, Allison was leaning into his space.

“You ok?” she asked, pretty face scrunched up in concern.

Stiles gave her a confused look. “Yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?”

Allison shrugged. “You ran away pretty fast this morning.”

Stiles winced. “Yeah. Sorry. It wasn’t my best moment, I know. The conversation was just…”

“We heard,” Scott piped up, pulling out his earphones. “But you have to admit that was a bit off, dude. You ok?”

“It’s just that…” Stiles sighed and started picking at the blades of grass. “I just got kinda… I mean, I got fed up.”

“Fed up with what?” Allison asked, tucking her feet under her. Scott, who was on his stomach, wiggled over like a worm, placing his chin on Stiles’ knee. Stiles huffed and nudged Scott on the head fondly. He hesitated, but it was probably better talking about it.

“It’s not like I blame Fran or you guys or whatever, but for the past two months since I met Derek, everyone’s been kind of pushy and saying all these stuff and getting me to, like, throw myself on him or whatever. And please don’t start on the ‘but you do have a boner for him’ jokes, guys.”

“I wasn’t. I promise,” Allison said.

“Same.” Scott raised a hand.

“It’s not that I blame you guys but… You know how Robbie kind of flashed me at him last Friday, right?” Stiles asked, to which they nodded. Stiles had been on speaker in their apartment as he ranted to them about that whole spectacle. “When Fran tried to do it, and I don’t think she really meant it, it just made me mad. Like, I feel they’re making such a big deal over it. Not to mention all the personal boundaries being totally ignored.”

“We’ll stop if it bothers you,” Allison said, stroking his arm in apology. “Sorry.”

“It’s not that,” Stiles shook his head. “I can take it. You know I dish those kind of jokes myself, but they mentioned the whole hospital thing…” He took a breath. “You guys know why I hate getting check-ups in the hospital.”

Allison nodded. “We do. And I’m sure Fran didn’t mean it.”

Stiles rubbed the back of his neck. “I know.”

Scott’s head bobbed up and down Stiles’ knee, “And I know you want us to stop with the whole Derek thing, and we will, but he’s a doctor. What he said was kinda expected of him. And he is new to town so he doesn’t know a lot about you. You didn’t have to snap at him, bro.”

“I know _that_ , too,” Stiles said. Now he felt like an idiot. "I know I overreacted."

“And I’ll seriously get the others to stop with the jokes, if it bothers you,” Allison said.

“I’ll stop,” Scott paused. “Well, except for a dig at you now and then, but I’m your best friend so I have the right to.”

Stiles laughed weakly. “Thanks, guys.”

Allison and Scott seemed satisfied with that. Allison leaned against him, Stiles wrapping an arm around her in gratitude, as Scott flipped over and lied down on Stiles’ thigh, continuing on with homework.

* * *

By the end of the day, Stiles was still feeling the shame and sting of his rude behavior earlier today. He had made up with Fran through a quick call before lunch hour ended. He knew Fran would have spent the whole day completely bothered and unable to work if left guilt-ridden. He was contemplating an apology to Derek, when Erica made the decision for him.

“Hey, Stiles,” Erica said, finding him in the middle of the crowd. “I was looking for you.”

“Hey there, babe,” Stiles said, giving her a quick hug as they meandered down the hall. “What’s up?”

Erica wrapped an arm around his waist. “Just that I really need a ride to a friend’s place. Boyd has work so he can't take me.”

“And who else can be your chauffeur but me,” Stiles said.

Erica grinned. “Of course, so you actually have some use in my life, Batman.”

Stiles laughed, squeezing her leather-clad shoulder, as they reached the parking lot. Erica and Isaac had matching black leather jackets, and Stiles had a feeling Derek had one too, though he hadn't seen it yet.

“How’s the new school treating you?”

Erica tilted her head to the side. “It’s a lot different. My schedule is totally all over the place. Half of the classes are ridiculously boring because I’ve already had some of the topics last year, while I’m trying to catch up to the other half I haven’t studied yet.”

Derek, with Erica and Isaac in tow, had moved to Beacon Hills in time to start the new school year. Erica was taking up Marketing, while Isaac was taking up Criminology. The college took them in easily enough, though Isaac’s papers took longer to process because apparently, he had attended college in England. And wasn’t _that_ more reasons for the townspeople to gossip over the little family.

“Damn, sounds rough,” Stiles said, as he opened the car door for Erica. “By the way, where’s your car?”

“My car’s in the shop,” Erica said, sighing. “Something about the engine, as if I know. That’s why Derek took me and Isaac to school today.”

Derek. Immediately, the feeling of shame came back. Stiles shifted uneasily in his seat as he pulled out of the driveway.

“By the way, about this morning,” Erica started and she turned to Stiles with a serious look. “Derek’s a doctor so I hope you’re not taking his comment against him. It’s not like we’re eavesdropping, but you guys were pretty loud.”

Stiles sighed, rubbing his bridge of his nose under his glasses. “I’m not, really. In fact, I kinda thought about it and I guess it’s really my fault.”

“By the way, drop me off at 66th Street. That’s nearby.” Erica leaned back on her seat. “Of course, it’s not. Der was just being a doctor.”

“And I was being a bit too sensitive,” Stiles said, turning down the right driveway. “I just have this thing about hospitals and I guess I was embarrassed when Fran pointed it out in front of Derek of all people.”

There was silence for a moment before Erica let out a sigh. “Anyway, so yeah, I just kinda wanted to make sure you weren’t hating on Der or anything.”

Stiles shook his head. “Of course, I won’t. Derek’s been nice to me. I don’t think I can hate him.” He shrugged.

“He likes you, you know,” Erica said slowly.

Stiles flashed back to a few days back when Derek told him the same thing. He laughed, tampering down a flush. “Of course. I am immensely likeable.”

Erica scoffed and swatted him on the arm. “That’s not what I meant. I mean…” She paused, taking a breath. “He kinda wants to get to know you.”

It took Stiles a beat before he could answer and he knew Erica noticed that. “That’s cool, and really flattering, but I’m pretty sure I’m not that interesting.” Stiles parked the car with a sudden stop and motioned to the house. “Here we are by the way.”

Erica was still looking at him, but her lips were pursed and her expression was a tad put out. “Thanks for the ride,” she finally said, opening the door. “I owe you.”

“Do you need a ride home? I can wait.” Stiles was half-hoping she said no, just to stop whatever sudden awkwardness was in the conversation, but he also didn’t want to leave Erica without a ride.

“Nah, I’m good,” Erica said, smiling and getting out. “You go on just in case you, you know, have someplace else you want to go to.” She waved and walked off.

Stiles watched her go and ended up staying for a while, deep in thought.

Without another word, he set the jeep into drive and headed off.

* * *

Perhaps waiting in Derek’s office, even with the door wide open, wasn’t exactly a good idea. Derek half-jumped and dropped his clipboard in surprise when he stepped in and saw Stiles seated in front of his desk and reading one of the pamphlets.

“Stiles!” Derek gasped out, eyes wide.

“H-hi,” Stiles said, standing up. He coughed and straightened his glasses. “Sorry to barge in. Well, not barge in exactly. I mean, stay here without permission, though in my defense, one of the nurses said I could wait here. So, I guess I’m sorry for surprising you. I really didn’t mean to.”

Derek let out a shaky laugh, still on the verge of surprise. He picked up his clipboard. “Yeah, it’s ok. I just wasn’t expecting anyone. Obviously.”

“Sorry,” Stiles said again.

“No, it’s fine,” Derek said, closing the door behind him and set his clipboard on the table. He motioned for Stiles to sit down. “Hi. How are you?”

Stiles raised an eyebrow at him. “That’s a weird question. I should be the one asking you that.” He motioned to Derek.

Derek looked like he was hit by a typhoon or something. His hair looked mussed, like he had been running his hands through it, his white coat was open with a smidge of what could only be blood on it, and his green dress shirt had something wet streaked across it.

Despite his appearance, Stiles still couldn’t help giving Derek a once over in appreciation. He had never really seen Derek in action, or at least after the action. He still looked good.

Derek flushed. “God, sorry. I know I look like a total mess.”

Stiles shook his head. “No, it’s ok. I shouldn’t even be here. You’re obviously really busy.”

Derek rubbed his face tiredly, his stubble thick under his fingertips. It made Stiles’ palm itch with want to stroke his face.

“I just got off on a check-up with the Samson twins, one of whom threw up on me,” Derek explained. “And before that I had to prep someone for surgery, six-year-old with leg fracture who wouldn’t stop crying. And before that was a check-up with Mrs. Wilson, who’s pregnant and whose husband and mother-in-law wouldn’t stop questioning every single thing I did.” He let out a heavy sigh.

“That sounds rough,” Stiles said softly.

“I love my job, but not always.” Derek sighed. He walked over to the closet and pulled out a shirt from the closet. “By the way, I really need to get out of this smelly thing. If you–”

Stiles stood up. “Oh, yeah, sure. I’ll go.”

“No, no, that’s not what I meant,” Derek said. His brow furrowed and Stiles wanted to stroke his thumb and smooth out the wrinkles. “I have to change, but I don’t want you to leave. I’m on break and I would actually appreciate the company. If you’re ok with that?”

“Oh.” Stiles said, scuffing his sneakers on the floor. It wouldn’t hurt, right?

He nodded eventually. “Sure, I could stay and just, you know, not look at you. Not that you’re not good to look at. It’s the opposite. You’re actually not bad-looking. But I won’t like, look at you while you’re changing and… yeah.” He sat down, averting his gaze.

Stiles could hear Derek’s huff of amusement and rubbed his face in embarrassment. Behind him, he could hear the sound of rustling cloth.

“Anyway, to what do I owe this visit?”

Stiles licked his lips and pushed his glasses up his nose with a thumb. “Well, you see, I came here because I want to–”

“Oh shit,” Derek muttered and Stiles snuck a glance at him. His shirt was already unbuttoned and Stiles looked back away before he could see more. Derek sighed. “I forgot. I should actually be the one to come see you. I haven’t apologized for this morning.”

“That’s actually why I’m here,” Stiles said. “I wanted to apologize for the way I acted. I was rude.”

Derek let out a huff. “No, I shouldn’t have reacted that way. I guess I was just being a doctor.”

“Because you are,” Stiles said. “And I know that if I apologize, you’d just apologize back, then I would, then you, so let’s just leave it as it is. It’s all cool. We’re good.”

Derek sighed in obvious relief. He walked into Stiles’ line of sight, halfway through buttoning up his shirt. Stiles couldn’t help watching each sliver of skin disappear.

“That’s great,” Derek said, grabbing some wipes from his table for his hands. He gave Stiles a serious look. “But I really didn’t want to offend you or anything.”

“I was just…” Stiles scuffed his sneakers against the leg of his chair. “I just got a bit testy, that’s all.”

Derek nodded. “Of course. Not everyone likes going to hospitals. Not even some doctors, especially not after working double shifts. I should have gotten that.” He sat down on his seat with a groan of relief. Stiles couldn’t help filing the sound away for further…er, perusal.

“No, it’s not that,” Stiles said. He bit his lip in hesitation before continuing, “I don’t mind coming here. Obviously, since I am right here in your office and Mrs. McCall works here. I just don’t like getting check-ups unless I really, really need it, and it’s not just about the whole getting poked and prodded thing, which I also actually don’t like all that much. I just…”

Derek gave him a curious look.

“I was with my mom when the doctor told her she had cancer,” Stiles said softly.

Derek’s eyes widened, stunned into silence at the admission. Stiles smiled weakly. Derek was a doctor and Stiles was sure he would understand. He wasn’t saying this to make the man feel guilty. It’s just that Derek was nice to him and even nicer to Ben and his whole family. Throwing a fit at him wasn’t right.

“It was three years ago, or three and a half.” Stiles leaned back on his seat. “I was sick that day, got a case of mild food poisoning – not from Robbie’s work, but from a diner downtown that’s closed up now – and I was puking my guts out. We walked in here and it was the usual, a few pokes here and there, listening to my heartbeat, getting my temperature, and all that jazz, when one of the other doctors asked to talk to her.” He huffed in soft laughter. “I actually wasn’t supposed to hear, but they were just outside the room talking and I suddenly had to throw up. I was on my way out about to hoof it to the closest bathroom when I heard it clear as day.”

Stiles ran his hands through his hair. “'I’m sorry, Mrs. Stilinski, but the cancer has spread far too much,' the doctor said. I wanted to punch him in the face.” He laughed mirthlessly. “They said Mom had a year to go, but she beat the odds and lasted half a year more than that; strongest woman I know.”

“I heard about your mother,” Derek said softly. “Not in detail though, just that she died two years ago. She’s remembered quite fondly. Whenever some of the townsfolk talk about her, they have nothing but good things to say.”

Stiles nodded, swallowing the lump in his throat. He rubbed his palms on his jeans. “And I know the whole thing is so shallow, like I was just getting looked at. I didn’t have anything to do with my mom getting sick but I…” He licked his lips. “I don’t know. It just kinda got connected and stuck in my head. It’s stupid. I’m such a wimp.”

“No, it’s not stupid and you’re not a wimp,” Derek said softly. “I get it, Stiles.”

A moment of silence passed. It was comfortable and Stiles leaned back on his seat, enjoying it.

“You already know my parents are gone.”

Stiles turned. Derek wasn’t looking at him. He was leaning back on his seat and looking up at the ceiling with his hands twined over his stomach. Stiles kept quiet, waiting.

“…They died in a fire seven years ago.”

Stiles’ body jerked at that, eyes widening.

“My sister Laura was sleeping over at a friend’s while I was with my uncle Peter. By the time we got home, the fire had spread and my parents were trapped.”

Stiles couldn’t stop his wince. He bit his lip, hesitating. “May I… May I ask how the fire…” He trailed off.

“Arson.”

Stiles shivered. Derek met his eyes, his face a mix of resigned smile and pained grimace.

“The guy got caught though. It’s a small mercy.”

This was no competition. Losing a parent or both was painful no matter the circumstances, but Stiles and his family had time to make peace and say goodbye. Stiles woke up every day knowing and preparing for the inevitable. Derek didn’t have the luxury.

Stiles grinned feelingly. “Well, this was a heavy, getting-to-know-one-another conversation.”

Derek let out a laugh, a bit choked up from the same ball of emotion in Stiles’ throat, but he looked at Stiles teasingly. “Yes, very pleasant.”

They shared a chuckle of shared amusement and empathy between them.

“This was nice, though,” Derek said carefully, a grin on his face, “All the morbidity aside.”

Stiles couldn’t help smirking. “Yeah, I guess it is.”

“Though, I had other plans, actually,” Derek said.

“Other plans?” Stiles repeated, confused. “What do you mean?”

The door was suddenly jerked open, surprising them so much that Stiles accidentally banged his knee on the table and Derek almost tilted his chair over backwards.

“Dr. Hale!” The nurse who burst in seemed as surprised as they were. “I am so sorry. I didn’t know you have someone in here. And Stiles too. Hello, dear. That’s probably why the door’s closed.”

The words were innocent enough, but the idea of it made Stiles blush in the speed of light. He glanced at Derek and gaped a little to see a slight red blooming on his cheeks.

The nurse rattled on, oblivious. “I just wanted to say that your next appointment is canceled so you can take a quick break, Doc. And don’t forget you have your day off on Friday.”

“Y-Yes. Thank you, ma’am,” Derek said.

“Ok. Have fun boys,” she said and, as if to mock them, closed the door behind her. Stiles couldn’t help glaring at it.

There was silence for a few moments.

Derek coughed awkwardly. “So yeah. I, um… I actually don’t close the door to my office. It saves time when I’m needed urgently for something.”

Stiles let out a chuckle trying to alleviate the awkwardness. “Oh, well, I guess that’s why she looked so surprised. It’s just me, though. What could we be doing behind a closed door?”

It was meant as a joke, really, but there was a beat of silence at that from both of them. Stiles didn’t know where it came from and he didn’t want to examine Derek’s sudden interest in his ceiling.

“So…” Stiles said. “Um, what were we saying?”

“That mini-heart attack I had made me forget,” Derek said. Stiles snickered at that. “How’s your knee by the way?”

“My knee?” Stiles tilted his head to the side. “Oh yeah. It’s ok. It didn’t actually hurt.”

“Why does it seem like you get bruised every time you’re with me?” Derek asked, shaking his head.

“Nah. It’s all me. It’s a talent of mine.” Stiles chortled.

“By the way,” Derek started and Stiles noted his sudden discomfort. “I know you already said no to the idea of it but I have been meaning to ask if…” He paused, rubbing his neck. “I wanted to ask if you’d let me take a look at your arm…” He paused again. “And your hip, actually.”

Stiles fidgeted. “You want to…”

“I’m sorry,” Derek said. “Now I know you don’t like it but… it’s just… a doctor thing.”

Stiles felt that little roll in his gut whenever check-ups were involved. He thought of declining, but Derek looked a bit frustrated at himself, like he didn’t want to upset Stiles but couldn’t help it. And he was kind enough to ask.

Stiles took a breath. “It’s not going to hurt, right?”

Derek jerked, looking appalled at the idea. “Of course not. I won’t ever hurt you.”

“Good to know.” Stiles let out a shaky laugh. “Um, sure. I guess I could… you could…”

Derek didn’t move for a moment, but then he nodded and stood up. He moved over to sit across from him on the extra chair.

Stiles let out another laugh, shaky and a bit reedy. “So?”

Derek pointed to his arm. His ‘doctor face’ was partly on, but his eyes were soft, obviously noting Stiles’ discomfort. “If you could pull up your sleeve?”

Stiles nodded, tugging on his sweater sleeve to reveal his forearm and elbow. He held it straight out towards Derek and looked away, closing his eyes.

Stiles didn’t bother wrapping the wound. It was just a few scratches and while they gave him a bit of a jolt when his sleeves bunch up against them, he didn’t see any sense bandaging them. He did put a band-aid on his elbow, where the wound was a circle of furrowed skin and bled just a tad bit more.

Stiles couldn’t help jumping in his seat when he felt Derek’s palms around his wrist and the other on the side of his elbow. His hands felt big and warm as they slowly bent and tilted his arm. He kept still as he heard Derek shuffle forward, his knee pressing against the side of Stiles’ leg.

“I thought you picked the Disney Princess band-aid,” Derek said with a soft laugh.

Stiles kept his eyes shut and let his frayed nerves clamp onto the sound of Derek’s voice and the warmth from his palm. “Nah, got the Batman ones. Jill will seriously hurt me if I stuck Belle on her leg.”

“Stiles, may I…” Derek paused. Stiles felt him press a finger against the band-aid.

“Here comes the prodding and poking,” Stiles let out a laugh, a bit hysterical. “Just do it. Seriously. Go on.”

He felt Derek’s nail scrape lightly against the skin as he tore off the band-aid slowly. Stiles let out a strangled breath when he felt Derek tilt his elbow a little to see. There was a moment where Derek let go of his wrist but kept ahold of his elbow. There was the sound of rustling and Stiles kept rigid and quiet until he felt something liquid against his elbow, making the wound sting. He opened his eyes and turned to see Derek’s face close to his bent elbow, lips slightly pursed, and he blew on it.

Stiles shivered.

“Just something for the wound.” Derek shushed him softly before he pulled out a band-aid from the pocket of his white coat.

“You replaced Batman with Cars? Seriously?” Stiles laughed, unable to help himself.

Derek grinned. “If you have anything against Pixar, I am tossing you out of this office. Awesome childhoods and all that.”

Stiles laughed again. “No way. Pixar’s a family favorite. Though if you had The Incredibles there, I would have hugged you.”

The dimple on Derek’s cheek jumped. “Duly noted.”

Derek placed the band-aid on and Stiles let out a breath, quickly pulling down his sleeve. Derek cleared his throat.

“Your hip, please?” Derek asked.

Stiles fidgeted. Well, so much for not wanting to flash Derek. Still, this was all professional and medical. He didn’t have to worry.

Stiles sighed and scooted sideways, pausing when he suddenly realized that he was seated close enough that his knees were against Derek’s thigh while Derek’s other leg was spread wide. He tried not to look down.

“H-Here, then.” Stiles pulled up the edge of his shirt. He looked away as Derek ducked down to look.

The bruise wasn’t that large, but it was just Stiles’ luck that he landed on it when Robbie crashed into him. It didn’t hurt that much, unless you poked it hard, but now it looked awfully black and blue.

Derek didn’t touch him, just let out a hum and nudged Stiles more to the side by pulling his elbow gently. After a minute, he tapped Stiles’ hand. Stiles pulled down his shirt and looked away, unable to meet Derek’s eye.

“It’ll be gone in a few days. At least you’re ok. That’s what matters,” Derek said.

Stiles let out a shaky laugh, keeping his gaze on his lap. He could see Derek’s spread legs though, which was making it difficult to concentrate.

“Um, thanks. And congratulations. You, Derek, are the first person in three years to have given me a decent once-over.” He looked at Derek.

“I’m honored,” Derek said with a smile.

There was a beat of silence as they looked at one another and Stiles couldn’t help rubbing his elbow. He still felt that uncomfortable rolling in his gut, but with Derek it seemed a tad bit more manageable, especially since he was a lot more patient knowing Stiles’ aversion.

“Anyway, it’s getting a bit late,” Stiles said, only then checking his watch. “I should actually get going.”

Derek snapped out of it. “Oh yeah. Sorry. I shouldn’t have kept you.”

“It’s good, though,” Stiles said. “I actually… this was nice. Even the whole…” He motioned to his arm.

Derek chuckled. “Yeah.”

“And thanks, Derek. Really.”

“And thank you,” Derek said. “For remembering to use my name. Even if I am on-duty. I’d prefer that actually.”

Stiles was confused at that before laughing. “I didn’t even notice.”

Stiles stood up, taking a rather embarrassing moment to move away from the V of Derek’s spread legs. It was more unnerving as Derek watched him, unmoving.

“So…” Stiles fiddled with his glasses. “I’ll see you?”

“Yeah,” Derek said, nodded. “See you around, Stiles.”

Stiles gave him a large grin, pleased when Derek returned it, and made his way out. He opened the door, only to remember.

“Oh yeah!” Stiles jerked around at the sudden memory, turning back. Derek was back behind his desk and looked at him in confusion.

“Before the nurse came in,” Stiles cleared. “You mentioned some plans, whatever that meant.”

Derek opened his mouth and then seemed to have hesitated. He merely shook his head. “Nothing. It was… Never mind.”

Stiles nodded slowly, unconvinced. Derek really seemed to have wanted to say something. Stiles had gone this far. Why not bite the bullet?

“You sure?” Stiles asked. “And I won’t laugh at you or whatever. We’re kind of past that given the whole morbid story-telling earlier. And I promise I won’t say anything about that to anybody. Scout’s honor.”

“I know you won’t.” Derek smiled in amusement, his dimple showing. “I was saying that, morbid story-telling aside, I had different getting-to-know-one-another plans.” He shrugged.

“Getting to know plans?” Stiles tiled his head in confusion. “Wait, you mean… With me?”

About one-third of Stiles’ brain got the idea. The other two-thirds were a bit too slow on the uptake.

“What do you mean?”

Derek pursed his lips in thought. “Let’s put it this way. Are you free on Friday?”

Stiles’ brain shorted out a bit at the question. He actually had to mentally slap himself before he could answer.

“Um… well, I have morning classes, actually.”

“But after that?” Derek asked. When Stiles shook his head, he said, “I was wondering if you wanted to come with me to Franklin Elementary School.”

“That’s the next town over, right?” Stiles asked.

Derek nodded. “Yes. They’re having a fundraising event for a foundation I support and I was looking for someone to come with me.” He hesitated for a moment, before continuing, “But they also have an art exhibit by the kids and I thought you might want to come see it.”

Stiles perked up. “Really? Me?”

Derek nodded. “Sure. And I thought,” he rubbed the back of his neck. “I thought it’d be nice to spend time with you.”

No. Freaking. Way.

“So, do you want to come?” Derek asked.

“Yes! Of course!” Stiles gripped the edge of his sweater to stop from flailing. “I mean, I’d like that. Yeah. It’ll be fun. I would like that too. To get to know you. And um, yeah. It’ll be fun.”

Derek’s grin went up at full wattage, his eyes crinkling at the corners and there was no stopping Stiles’ full-body flush at that expression. Stiles fumbled around his pockets for his phone.

“You can text me,” Stiles said. “And I’ll see you after I get off.”

After exchanging numbers, Stiles couldn’t help gawking at his phone.

He had a date…outing…thing…whatever, with Derek.

“This is great,” Derek said. “I’ll text you, then.”

Stiles went home, clutching his phone in a sweaty grip and a large grin stretched across his face.

* * *

Stiles had no plans of telling the gang, or at least not until _after_ the date, date…outing…thing…whatever. But Jackson was taking digs at him about never making a move with Derek that Stiles ended up blurting it out.

“OH MY GOD!!!”

“Lydia! Allison! Shut the fuck up!” Stiles hissed at them as everyone within the vicinity turned to them.

The two girls kept on squealing and giggling, Scott was doing a fist pump in the air, Danny was laughing, Jackson looked pissed, and Boyd looked smug.

“Finally,” Boyd said. He turned to Jackson. “Pay up.”

Stiles looked at them, eyes widening when Jackson forked over a few bills. “What the fuck did you guys bet on?”

“On when you will snag a date,” Boyd said, counting his winnings.

Jackson did a faceplant on Lydia’s shoulders. “Fuck.”

Lydia kissed his head. “I told you to have more faith, baby. You didn’t. Now, where’s my money?” When Jackson’s palm started sliding up her thigh, she pinched him. 

Jackson grumbled as he forked over a few more.

Stiles watched all these with wide eyes.

Lydia grinned. “Me and Boyd bet Jackson here that you’d get a date within five months. Turns out we were right.” The two gave each other high fives.

“And you?” Stiles turned to Scott and Allison and Danny, glaring.

“I’m not a betting man,” Danny said, shrugging. And Stiles knew that was why he liked Danny. Danny was awesome.

“And we didn’t,” Allison said, smiling at Stiles.

“Which is pretty fucking shocking, I know,” Scott said. “But we knew you’d disown us if we did.”

“Thank you,” Stiles said. “See that, Lydia? That’s called loyalty.”

Lydia scoffed. “I had faith you’ll nab a date with Derek before we’re thirty. That’s love, Stiles.”

“So, I see you’ve told the gang,” Isaac said.

Stiles groaned as Erica and Isaac walked up in matching leather jackets and matching grins.

“We can hear the screaming all the way on the other side of the campus,” Erica said, tossing herself on top of Boyd as Isaac sat down between Danny and Stiles. “Well, that and the fact that Derek mentioned it last night.”

“How’s Derek taking it?” Danny asked, curiously, nudging Isaac.

Isaac simply grinned, not answering. Erica smothered a giggle on Boyd’s shoulder.

“Why aren’t you two coming with him?” Stiles asked. “I looked it up. All proceeds go to NDSS. It’s a good cause.”

“What’s NDSS?” Jackson asked, still bitter about his loss.

“National Down Syndrome Society,” Isaac said. “Derek’s been supporting them for almost a decade now - auction, buddy walk, marathon, outings, etc. He’s pretty dedicated.”

Stiles tried to tamper down his surprise. “Wow.”

“Impressive,” Boyd said.

Even Lydia looked impressed. “The man's a saint.”

“If saints were that hot, more people would be religious,” Danny commented, to everyone’s laughter.

“So, yeah,” Stiles pressed on. “Why aren’t you two going?”

“We’ve been going with him to this kind of stuff for years now,” Erica said. “Derek’s really passionate about it. And he’s family so we’ve always gone with him. This year however, he didn’t invite us.”

Isaac chuckled. “Or rather, he did, but we kind of uninvited ourselves.”

“Thank you,” Allison said, giggling, “Wouldn’t want to mess up Stiles’ game, or Derek’s.”

“What game?” Jackson scoffed. “Stiles will put out at the first date.”

Stiles kicked him hard on the shin for that.

Jackson hissed. “Hey! Watch the ankle!” He tried to take a swing.

“My glasses, you a-hole,” Stiles glared. He was delighted when Scott flung an arm at Jackson’s face in his defense. Even Allison gave Jackson a disapproving glare.

“I’m thinking around the eighth date,” Boyd said. “See, man? I have faith you can keep it in your pants.”

“I’ll put it down to before the fifth,” Jackson said. He wasn’t able to evade Allison’s tap to his forehead, partnered with a frown.

“Guys,” Allison said. “Let’s not.”

Jackson sighed. “What good is this if we can’t make fun of Stilinski?”

“You’re an ass, Jackson,” Stiles snapped.

“And besides,” Erica spoke up, nestling against Boyd. “You guys will be surprised.”

“By what?” Scott and Lydia asked.

Erica tossed her hair over a shoulder. “I’m just saying that we’ve known Derek for years.” She glanced at Isaac, who nodded.

“And that’s all we’re saying,” Isaac said. “We’re loyal.”

Jackson scoffed and leaned against Lydia, keeping quiet.

Everyone drifted off into their own thing, especially with the way Allison and Scott were glaring at anyone who made any more disparaging comment at Stiles.

Stiles was trying not to fiddle with his phone. He and Derek had only exchanged two messages since yesterday’s encounter. And it was only Tuesday. There was no need to hurry up and talk to him. But for all that there were only two messages, Stiles couldn’t help reading them again and again even if he had them ingrained into his memory.

_**From:** Derek  
**Message:** Text me so I know you got home ok._

_**From:** Derek  
**Message:** Thanks for today :)_

Derek was just being nice. Stiles knew that. But he got an emoticon from Derek, for god’s sake! He couldn’t stop himself from squealing in his head like some lovesick idiot.

Stiles shook off his thoughts. Friday was still too far off. He had to concentrate on something else before he obsessed over this.

“I’ll head off,” Stiles said, grabbing his backpack. “I have to talk to Professor Royce for that assignment.”

“I’ll come with,” Isaac said. “I need to get to class early anyway.”

The two walked off, making small talk as they went. Just before Isaac had to turn down a different hall, he grabbed Stiles by the arm.

“Hey, Stiles,” he said, tugging at him. “I’m glad you’re going with Derek to this thing.”

Stiles let out an embarrassed laugh at that. “Um, thanks, but you and Erica didn’t have to like, bow out or something. In fact, if I had known this was a family thing, I wouldn’t have…” He paused. He couldn’t, wouldn’t ever, say no to spending time with Derek, but it would have been odd pushing himself into a family affair.

Isaac chuckled, getting it. “Honestly, it’s ok. Erica and I are happy he’s spending time with somebody he _really_ likes.”

Before Stiles could reply, Isaac walked off, waving over his shoulder.

* * *

_**From:** Derek  
**Message:** Don’t bother picking up lunch. It’ll be my treat._

Stiles gaped at the message as he sat cross-legged on the floor of his apartment, several textbooks and papers scattered around him. He frowned and jammed his thumbs against his phone.

_**From:** Stiles  
**Message:** that’s 2 much!!! ur already driving n showing me around!!!_

Ever since yesterday evening, he and Derek had been exchanging texts about Friday’s outing. The affair was going to start at half-past two in the afternoon so Stiles had enough time to run back to his place and change before Derek picked him up and drove them off to the school. Since they both wouldn’t have time for lunch, they were debating who’s footing the bill.

Stiles stretched his legs over his textbooks with a groan. He grabbed the remote and switched to some random documentary on koalas. He was contemplating the distance between his living room and the small kitchen when his phone buzzed.

Stiles had been worried he was interrupting Derek at work, but it was hard to keep thinking that when he constantly received a reply. He wasn’t exactly sure who started texting who first, but he wasn’t about to question that now.

_**From:** Derek  
**Message:** I invited you. It’s gonna be my treat. Stop complaining._

Stiles couldn’t help grinning. Derek was amusing to talk to through text. He was just as honest, but even pushier on text as he was in person. Plus, he typed in proper spelling and punctuation.

Stiles snickered as he replied.

_**From:** Stiles  
**Message:** fine but don’t complain if I eat u outta ur doc’s salary. i have a stomach for ten people dude. u look like ur d type to pick a salad over some bbq burgers._

As he waited for Derek to reply, Stiles grabbed his sketchbook. He suddenly thought of his message and grabbed his phone.

_**From:** Stiles  
**Message:** w/c is a compliment about your awesome figure btw ;)_

Stiles returned to his sketchbook and found his latest piece. It was a sketch he did last weekend of the Stilinskis around the campfire. He smiled fondly at the piece. He got on his knees and started crawling towards one of his drawers, grabbing some paper and pastels. He paused.

Tucked in one corner was a painting, unfinished and barely halfway done. The outline was smudged in some places from the days he used to stroke the face of the model on the canvas, the paint cracked where tears had fallen and nails had raked. It has been two years but he still didn’t have the heart to finish it.

His phone buzzed, interrupting his thoughts, and he turned away.

_**From:** Derek  
**Message:** Are you serious? I feel fat! My ass has its own orbit!_

Stiles absolutely choked on his spit at that. “Oh my god, Derek!” He laughed.

He placed his art materials on the coffee table and sat down beside it. He fired off a reply.

_**From:** Stiles  
**Message:** DUDE!!! CRACKING UP!!! HAHAHA!!! n seriously ur ass looks gr8 man._

Stiles paused, deciding that was a bit too creepy. He added:

 ** _Message:_** _I’ve seen patients, nurses, n people on d street gravitating towards it ;)_

Satisfied, he looked back down at his coffee table. Looking between the outline on the sketchbook and the blank piece of paper, Stiles cracked his knuckles and set to work.

And if he spent half the time laughing over Derek’s texts, and ended up asleep with his phone in hand, then no one was with him in his apartment to tease him about it.

* * *

By Wednesday afternoon, Stiles was at Sweeters. He was waiting for Jill and Robbie, as was their weekly Wednesday café outing.

_**From:** Derek  
**Message:** I’ll text you later. Got an appointment._

Stiles fired off a quick reply and pocketed his phone just as someone placed a tray on his table.

“Finally!” Danny said, grinning widely and sitting across from him. “You’ve been on your phone all day today. Talking to Dr. D?”

While Danny often joined the ‘mock Stiles and his crush’ group without hesitation, he wasn’t as embarrassing as Lydia or as forward as Jackson. Stiles wasn’t too embarrassed to answer him with a nod.

“That’s good to hear.” Danny chuckled and handed Stiles one of his snickerdoodles. “Though I find it odd that yesterday you were telling us to quit with the jokes, but now you have that grin on your face every time you get a text. It’s killing me not to take a crack at you.”

“Thanks for the self-restraint,” Stiles said, laughing. He couldn’t help wondering how we looked. Was he that obvious?

Danny bit into his cookie. “Have you told Jill and Robbie and Fran yet?”

Stiles suddenly remembered that he was actually nervous to be here. Texting Derek made him forget it.

“I texted Fran this morning and texted Robbie and Jill after class ended.”

Danny’s jaw dropped open. “Uh-oh. You’re gonna die, man. You know they’ll–”

The door banged open, making everyone in the café jump. There was a yelp as someone by the booth almost slid off his seat.

There was Jill, her short hair messier than usual, and her backpack half falling over her shoulder. She looked like she ran a marathon.

“Genim!” Jill shouted, breezing past everybody else and tossing herself right onto Danny's lap.

“Oi!” Danny tugged at Jill’s arm. “Jill! Off!”

Jill ignored him. “Are you serious?” she hissed at Stiles. “Do you really have a date with Dr. Hale?”

Stiles was relieved she didn’t shout that out loud. He flushed, fiddling with his glasses. “Come on, Jill. It’s not a date. It’s–”

“It’s totally a date. How can it not be?” Jill said, bouncing up and down. Danny groaned. Before Stiles could berate him - because dude, this was his sister - he realized that was a groan of pain.

“Jill! Seriously! I kinda need that! Get off!” Danny said, pushing her.

Jill got off with a huff, but kept her focus on Stiles. “Anyway, as I was saying, how can that not be a date?”

And that was exactly what Stiles was kind of fretting over. Because as much as it was for a wonderful cause, bringing Stiles along to something that was usually for Derek and his family was kind of leaning over to something more than just a day out with a friend. He would have believed it was an innocent thing if Erica and Isaac came, but even they conceded to not tagging along and Stiles didn’t hear anything about Derek trying to convince the two otherwise.

There was a buzz and Stiles pulled his phone out on autopilot. He only realized it was a bad idea when Jill’s arm flew across the table to snatch it from him. Danny managed to save his coffee from spilling over.

“Man, you’re excited,” Danny said, laughing.

“Jill!” Stiles raised his hand above his head and leaned back. Thank god he was taller than her. But someone suddenly grabbed his phone from behind.

Robbie was grinning widely, as he held Stiles’ phone hostage.

“What’s it say? What’s it say?” Jill asked.

“Rob! Give it back!” Stiles said, scrambling off his seat.

“No way.” Robbie grinned, pulling the phone behind his back. “I wanna see what you and the Doc talk about.”

The next thing Robbie knew, Danny was grabbing the phone from behind his back.

“Danny!” All three Stilinskis rounded on him.

“Come on!” Jill pouted. “We’re having fun here! Gimme!”

“Don’t! Come on! Seriously!” Stiles said, eyes widening.

Robbie stalked towards him. “Danny, babe, give it to me.”

Danny laughed. “Aww. I would kill for you to keep calling me babe, Robert, love, and I do want to have fun, Jillian. However, I cannot, in good conscience, make fun of Genim over here.” He tossed the phone to Stiles. “I promised Allison and Scott.”

“Danny, I love you,” Stiles said gratefully, tightening his hold on his phone.

Danny laughed at Robbie’s frown and Jill’s pout as he grabbed his tray. “Jill, you’ll be thanking me in the future when I try and keep your brothers away from you when you have your own date. And Robbie, sorry baby, but you didn’t hit this, so you’re not getting any help from me.”

Robbie chuckled as Danny walked off. “I love him, seriously. He ruined all the fun, but you gotta love the humor.”

Jill was still persistent. “Who is it?”

Stiles sighed in relief when it turned out the text wasn’t from Derek, but he couldn’t help the slight squeak of nervousness when he saw the message.

_**From:** Shortie Fran  
**Message:** HOLY SHIT GENIM STILINSKI!!! WE HAVE TO PICK OUT WHAT YOU’RE GOING TO WEAR!! OH MY GOD YOU HAVE TO CALL ME THURSDAY NIGHT SO WE CAN GET YOU READY!!!!_

“All caps and proper spelling,” Robbie noted. “You’re lucky if she doesn’t suddenly drive home just to help you get ready.” He laughed.

“Damn, bro. I am excited for you.” Jill grinned, bouncing a little on her seat. “I can’t believe I can go around telling people Dr. Hale’s my brother-in-law.”

Stiles floundered at that. “Jill! Come on! He is not… I mean, we are not…”

There was a buzz and Stiles checked his phone.

_**From:** Derek  
**Message:** I’m tempted to do what my aspirin bottle says: Take two and keep away from children._

Stiles couldn’t help chortling.

“Oh my god. You’re really texting him.” Robbie leaned over.

Stiles gripped his phone to his chest before they could grab it again. “Dudes. I don’t go around reading your text messages. Butt out.”

_**From:** Stiles  
**Message:** samson twins again? awww. poor baby._

Jill scoffed, deflating. “Fine, whatevs. But you are spending the weekend with us. I wanna hear every detail about your date.”

“Same,” Robert said, grinning widely.

“No, I’m not.” Stiles protested.

He half-hoped nothing eventful happened on Friday so he could at least leave off telling anybody details. But the other half also hoped something _does_ happen.

And Stiles didn’t know if he was more nervous or excited about those thoughts.

* * *

Friday finally rolled around and Stiles just _knew_ his friends would be waiting for him just outside the gates. He heard Lydia’s shrill shriek of his name, but pretended not to hear it, instead ducking out as quick as he could. He left his jeep at his apartment three blocks away, just close enough for a quick jog.

He got into his apartment, took a quick shower, and grabbed the shirt and jeans Fran decided on the night before. Fran was unable to call him last night because she had to work overtime, but she definitely made sure to provide sisterly advice

 _ **From:** Shortie Fran_  
**_Message:_** _Gem. we r doing this right. listen to ur big sis:_  
_\- wear d short-sleeved red button down + d levis jeans I got u last year + not dirty sneakers_  
_\- eat like a normal person but dont be messy._  
_\- ders an art xhibit right? use ur art know how. brainy is d new sexy. he’s a doc. more than a match for ur smart ass._  
_\- let him pay if he insists on it but dont 4get to thank him!_  
_\- be decisive. dont say ‘I dont know’ all the time._  
_\- dont hint at another date unless u r absolutely sure he wants to._  
_\- ENGAGE IN WHAT HE IS DOING!_  
_\- dont put out on a 1st date. D’s a doc so stay classy. making out is fine._  
_CALL ME AFTER! OR ELSE! LOVE YOU! HAVE FUN!_

Yeah…

Stiles sighed, as his phone buzzed again. Several texts have been coming in from Robbie, Scott, Allison, Lydia, and Danny.

Why is his love life everyone’s fucking past time?

He read through them quickly. Allison was sweet, while Scott and Robbie were just embarrassing with texts not to forget condoms and lube. Lydia was practically demanding details as soon as they’re done. Danny was nice, wishing him luck and telling him straight out that Boyd and Jackson had another bet going, but didn’t say what it was about.

Stiles pulled up his pants and was just shrugging on his button down when his phone buzzed.

_**From:** Catwoman Erica  
**Message:** Have fun Batman!_

Stiles blushed. “Oh god.”

Everyone really seemed to be having fun with his life.

Stiles was just grabbing his keys and his wallet when he received a call.

***Incoming call: Derek***

Stiles cut the call, grabbed his jacket, and headed down.

Derek’s Camaro was parked right out front and Stiles waved as he approached. He slid into the passenger seat with a smile.

“Hey,” Derek said, grinning wide and Stiles couldn’t help a double-take at the sight.

Derek was wearing a leather jacket - see? Stiles knew those cousins were matchy-matchy - a grey top and jeans, with a broad smile on his face and attractive stubble all over his handsome face. Stiles could hear the leather creak as Derek shifted his broad shoulders, and his large hands curled around the steering wheel and gear shift.

Stiles shivered internally. Damn. He wanted to jump the man’s bones so badly.

“H-Hi,” Stiles croaked out as soon as he put on his seatbelt. He cleared his throat. “Never thought I’d see the day you’d be so casual.”

Derek pulled out of the driveway smoothly, a smirk on his lips. “Yeah, well. I haven’t had a decent day off in a while so you wouldn’t have had the chance to see me dressed down.”

“You look good though. The leather is very dark and broody,” Stile said.

Derek chuckled. “Erica and Isaac wear the same thing and they are far from dark and broody.”

“Isaac’s all puppies, sunshine, and rainbows, while Erica’s my hot, snarky babe. You, on the other hand, totally pull off the alpha look,” Stiles said, grinning. “Like strong, confident, and assertive.”

Stiles couldn’t help the satisfaction he felt when a dusting of red appeared high on Derek’s cheeks. Derek was calm as cucumber a lot of the times, but he was actually really shy when he was being praised or complimented. It was adorable.

“That’s kind of a tall order.” Derek laughed. “And you are looking great yourself.”

Stiles chuckled, pointing at his own glasses. “Aww, shucks. Didn’t know you went for me and my hipster-slash-geekazoid look.”

“I do, actually,” he said softly. Derek gave him a small smile, one that made Stiles’ heart beat a tad bit faster.

“By the way, I got you lunch. It's at the back.”

“Yeah?” Stiles looked back. “What did you get?”

“Big belly burgers and you can choose between onion rings or curly fries,” Derek said.

“Curly fries! Definitely!” Stiles said, grinning. He leaned over, trying to grab the bags on the backseat.

Stiles jumped when Derek’s palm gripped his side, his large palm wrapping around his hip.

“Stiles, I’m doing a turn here. Be careful.”

Stiles did feel it as the car did a turn. His face flamed as Derek’s grip tightened, his warmth bleeding right into Stiles’ side. Shit. Shit.

“I got it!” Stiles shouted instead, grabbing the bags quickly. He shifted until Derek let go and Stiles was back in place. “There. Whew.”

Derek huffed and Stiles could feel him watching from the corner of his eye. Stiles pawed through the bags and pulled out two burgers. He balanced the bag on his lap.

“By the way, I have been meaning to ask what’s up with the leather jacket,” Stiles asked as he unwrapped the burger carefully. “I mean I have matching stuff with my family. And trust me, you’ve never seen matching clothing until you’ve seen all six Stilinskis wearing matching _everything_. But the leather jacket’s a real fashion statement.”

Derek accepted the unwrapped burger Stiles placed in his hand. He took a bite and made sure to swallow before answering.

“I lent mine to Isaac when he came to stay with me,” Derek said, fingers of one hand drumming. “He ended up loving it and when Erica came, I bought them their own as a gift.”

Stiles thought on that as he chewed. He was itching to ask what _came to stay_ meant and _why_ , which was pretty much one of the prime gossip materials in Beacon Hills, but he didn’t think that was appropriate.

“It looks good on you guys,” Stiles said. “I don’t think I’d ever be able to pull it off.” He opened the bag in his lap, balancing the container of onion rings and curly fries.

“My turn,” Derek said. He took a bite of his burger, chewed and swallowed before asking, “I have been meaning to ask what’s up with everyone calling you Stiles? Why not Genim?”

“It’s my name?” Stiles snorted. “And by the way, as much as I want to hoard the curly fries, I am amenable to sharing.” He juggled the wrapper to lean more towards his leg before reaching out to pop an onion ring in his mouth.

“Anyway, as for your question,” Stiles said. “I know what you mean. And you’re the first one to ask that in like, a long time.” He popped a fry in his mouth. “I was called Gem until after Jill was born. Our names are close enough that everyone kept getting them mixed up and Mom and Dad started worrying when Jill started responding to my name. They called me Stiles and people just got kinda used to it.”

“Hm.” Derek nodded. “Makes sense.”

They continued to talk as Derek drove and it was easy and fun and more than once Stiles was on the verge of spitting out his burger or his drink at Derek’s humor.

The Derek that Stiles had first met and hung out with at the hospital was a far, far cry from the Derek beside him that was now waxing poetic on the awesomeness of Pacific Rim with boyish excitement. Stiles had known Derek as reserved, quiet, with an intimidating aura and a very cool, if detached, demeanor that came with being a doctor. This Derek was more personal and warm and he laughed a lot, all the way from small chuckles, to deep throaty rumbles. Stiles was determined to one day get a real belly laugh from him.

After about a thirty-minute drive, they entered Aberdeen Town and in five minutes were already pulling into the parking lot of Franklin Elementary School.

Once Derek found a parking space, Stiles was already slipping off his seatbelt and getting out. He pushed his glasses up his face as he looked around.

He had been to Franklin Elementary a few times before. It was included in the yearly interscholastic events around the country, and Beacon Hills and Aberdeen were usually placed in the same bracket of competitors. Its large and spacious grounds were now lined with booths and small tents with dozens of people weaving in and out. There were banners and flags and a few large tarpaulins and the air crackled with excitement and merriment.

He let out a breath. “Wow. This is awesome.” He turned to see Derek on the other side of the car, watching him.

“Excited?” Derek laughed at Stiles’ enthusiastic nod. “Come on. I’ll show you around.”

They tossed out the remains of their quick lunch and Derek grabbed two extra water bottles from the back, handing one to Stiles. Grinning excitedly, Derek led him inside.

They started out front, following the entrance and the line of booths. Stiles watched and listened as Derek showed him around. The booths were littered with people handing out pamphlets and brochures and little flags and Stiles gamely put on a free baller band being handed out. There were tables of merchandise the proceeds of which go straight to the foundation, such as tribute cards, t-shirts, sweaters, gift baskets, jewelry, and more, and when they got nearer to the school, there were flowers, sweets, cakes, and cookies.

There were so many people, young and old, and it was without a doubt that the stars of this fun shindig were the children and adults with Down syndrome.

Derek was soaking up everything with the expression of someone who was not only in their element, but also someone really, really happy. Stiles practically couldn’t keep his eyes off him.

Erica and Isaac were right. Derek was really passionate about this. He let Stiles look around as much as he wanted, but would occasionally nudge him or tug his arm and point out something interesting. Despite the fact that Derek was a newcomer here, he did bump into a handful of people he knew. There was Mr. and Mrs. Williams who had two sons with Down Syndrome, Ace and Aaron, the latter of whom told Stiles he liked his shirt.

Stiles smiled, leaning down to his eye level. “Thanks, Aaron. I like yours. Green is my favorite color.”

Aaron gave him a large grin and Mr. and Mrs. Williams took turns giving them both hugs before they separated.

There was Sean, one of the shop managers, who was more than delighted when Stiles bought two hoodies, a light gray one for Ben and a white for Jill.

“They’ll love this,” Stiles said, showing it off to Derek.

“Thanks a lot, Stiles,” Sean said, shaking his head. “It’s nice to meet you, but…” he cast a glance at Derek. “I’m surprised Isaac and Erica aren’t with you, Derek.”

Derek shrugged. “They bowed out for this year.”

“Ah,” Sean said. He gave Stiles a scrutinizing glance, making him fidget. “I see.”

Then there was Stacey Timber, a large and perky woman, who was an organizer of NDSS and had known Derek back in New York.

“Derek! I’ve missed you!” Stacey exclaimed, throwing her arms around him. “I didn’t think I’d see you here, but I should have known you, of all people, would.” She smiled at Stiles. “And who is this with you?” 

“This is Stiles,” Derek said. “He’s a friend of mine.”

“Nice to meet you, ma’am,” Stiles said, shaking her hand.

“A friend?” Stacey looked between them, a gleam in her eyes. “Oh, you don’t have to lie to me, Derek. Such a handsome, young man. Quite a looker too, he is. And here I thought you left because–”

Stiles was a bit surprised when Derek swooped in, guiding Stacey away.

“We’re here to have fun, and not talk about NYC, Stace,” he said. “Things look awesome here at Aberdeen, just as awesome as New York.”

“I try my best.” Stacey laughed. “Anyway, I’ll get going and let you boys go on with your tour.”

She left, leaving a confused and still-blushing Stiles and a frowning Derek. They walked in silence for a while. Stiles glanced at Derek from the corner of his eye. He was still frowning and was looking a bit angrily at thin air. Stiles could tell that Stacey had hit a nerve and it was obviously something about New York. He was curious but if something about that made Derek angry or remember something he didn’t want to, Stiles didn’t want to ask.

They passed by a table of desserts and it was a testament to Derek’s deep thinking that he didn’t even notice Stiles buying some until Stiles held a cupcake to his face.

“Derek? You ok?”

Derek snapped out of it and glanced at Stiles. His expression turned into one of embarrassment. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to space out on you.”

“It’s ok,” Stiles said. “I got you something.”

Derek looked surprised and then guilty. “You didn’t have to! You’re my guest! I could have–”

“Derek, you bought me lunch and spent gas money on me,” Stiles butted in patiently. “And, dude, you even offered to pay for those hoodies. Which is sweet and I know you can afford it anyway, but I’m not a freeloader.”

If anything, Derek looked a bit panicked. It was actually adorable, like he was scared he made a wrong impression.

“I… I didn’t mean to make you feel like that. I just wanted to–”

“I know,” Stiles said, chuckling. “I do, Derek, really. So chill. This is just a cupcake.” He placed it in his palm. “Now I don’t know what you like, but I saw this tasty looking red velvet cupcake and thought of you.”

Derek looked at the little dessert on his palm. His face turned from one of panicked into surprise and then elation.

“You think I’m tasty?” he asked, giving him a teasing smile.

Stiles tried not to flush, covering it up with a snort. “You are so full of yourself. Guess what I got?” He showed him.

Derek’s horrified face was something Stiles was going to treasure forever. “Is that the pretty princess sparkles cupcake?”

“Damn straight it is,” Stiles said, grinning widely. He took a bite, licking away all the strawberry buttercream smeared across his lips.

Derek looked something akin to scandalized.

“What?” Stiles asked. “Do I still have some on my face?”

“Nothing,” Derek said, then took a large bite of his own. He licked his lips and Stiles bit his own to distract himself.

They walked on, looking at all the sights.

After they’ve thrown the wrappers away and Derek assured Stiles thrice that no, he had no more princess sparkles stuck in his teeth, Stiles decided to ask:

“By the way, not that I am not enjoying myself, I kinda wanted to ask why you’re into this,” Stiles asked. “It is a good cause, I know, but Isaac said you’ve been doing this for a decade or so. I know you’re dedicated, because or else you wouldn’t have finished Med school. I’m just curious why.”

Derek didn’t seem at all put-out by the question.

“I’ve been supporting NDSS since I was eighteen,” Derek said, his tone growing fond. “The son of a friend of my dad’s had Down Syndrome and one time, my dad pushed me to babysit him when I was sixteen. His name was Joshua. He was about twelve then, almost like Ben.” Derek let out a chuckle. “Now, I wasn’t the nicest kid back in the day, all rebellious and tough, and I was sixteen and forced against my will to look after some ‘special’ kid. You could imagine how pissed off I was.”

Stiles tried and despite how used he was to Derek’s small smiles and polite face, he couldn’t readily imagine a younger Derek. He snickered. “I’m kind of imagining a mini you in my head, complete with a leather jacket.”

Derek led him around a small family laughing and joking around. Stiles noticed that the father was carrying a little girl around three and a half years old. She had Down syndrome. She was looking over her dad’s shoulder and spotted Stiles. Stiles couldn’t resist a little wave and making a funny face. The girl gave her a toothy smile and placed a hand over her eyes, hiding. The mother saw that and gave Stiles a smile of her own.

Stiles turned to Derek and he was looking at him with a soft smile.

“What happened with Joshua?” Stiles asked because that fond expression on Derek’s face was one he didn’t want to analyze too closely.

Derek shrugged. “I was a jerk, as you can imagine. Joshua’s level of intellect was quite young compared to his actual age so he was still learning and he was a really quiet kid. I was warned not to use big words or say certain things in case I spook him. With that much rules, I actually didn’t talk to him much. We watched a DVD and I can’t remember what it was, but it was something just right for Joshua, but ridiculously boring for me. Joshua would just laugh at some thing or the other that I thought wasn’t even funny and halfway through I was texting some of my pals instead of watching.”

“Ouch.” Stiles winced. “That sounds awful.”

“It was horrible.” Derek agreed. “I laughed a few times for show and hid the phone whenever Joshua would look at me. And when I got bored and changed to playing video games, I let him go on two-player with me, though all I taught him was to go forward and backward while I was doing all sorts of stunts. I did make some snacks, a couple of grilled cheese sandwiches, which were probably the only things I did right. Then when I had to do homework, I just handed Joshua a couple of pieces of paper and crayons and told him to sit on the floor while I stayed on the couch and the coffee table.”

Derek held Stiles by the elbow and led him down the path towards the school’s gymnasium.

Stiles patted Derek’s hand on his arm. “It was kinda awful, Derek, but for a sixteen-year-old forced to do that who didn’t know any better, you were pretty ok.”

Derek chuckled. “I think some of the very few upsides to my behavior was because I knew I wouldn’t be able to lie to my parents and they’d be disappointed if they found out I didn’t make the effort. Which I didn’t, but…” Derek shrugged.

“You were sixteen,” Stiles reiterated, flicking Derek jokingly on the forehead. He paused. “Wait. This isn’t some penance or anything is it? You holding a grudge against your teenage self? Because nine years, dude? Seriously?” He nudged him to soften the joke.

“No. That isn’t why I do this.” Derek huffed, nudging him back. “I do this because after Joshua’s dad came to pick him up, Joshua told him that he had a great day with me. I thought it was a joke at first until I found out most of Joshua’s sitters or neighbors had never sat through an entire movie with him, or let him play expensive video games, or cut off the crusts from his sandwiches – I don’t like crusts so I just ran a knife through all the sandwiches that time – or usually just left him in his room to draw or color by himself.”

Stiles stopped in his tracks and looked at Derek’s face. It was soft and fond and so full of feeling that Stiles couldn’t help reaching out to touch his wrist.

Derek smiled softly. “It was probably the most moving moment in my life.”

Stiles let his hand circle Derek’s wrist.

“I volunteered to look after him any time they needed someone to stay with him,” Derek said. “But turns out they moved away two weeks after.”

“Did you ever get to see him again?” Stiles asked.

Derek shook his head. “I never did. About three months after they moved, Joshua was taken to the hospital. He had a heart condition, which was why they moved in the first place. He died several days after.”

Derek’s sad smile just about broke Stiles’ heart. Without hesitation, he reached out, letting go of Derek’s wrist and twining their fingers loosely.

“That… that must hurt,” he said softly.

“It did,” Derek said. “I cried for the entire day when I heard, mourned a friend I lost, even if I didn’t do enough.” Derek tapped his chest, right above his heart. “It still hurts, actually.”

“Is that why you became a doctor?” Stiles asked, not minding the way Derek’s fingers tightened as they walked.

“Part of it,” Derek said. “It was one of the reasons I applied to Med school. The reason I stayed was… well, the fire and my parents.”

If Stiles wasn’t holding on to Derek before, he was now. He slotted their palms together tightly, twining their fingers. He didn’t say anything, because he didn’t know what to say and he was sure there was nothing that he could say anyway. He squeezed Derek’s hand, blushing a little when Derek squeezed right back.

They entered the gymnasium then and when he and Derek had to let go in order to sign their names and pay for tickets, Stiles couldn’t help smiling to himself when Derek took his hand back immediately after.

Half of the gym was converted into a big exhibition with easels and tables set up for the art exhibit by several NDSS members, volunteers, and people with Down Syndrome. Stiles held tight to Derek’s hand as they walked around and Stiles couldn’t help smiling at the artworks. There were so many of them, ranging from crayon scrawls to paintings to pottery works to sculptures. There were pictures of the creators tacked on there as well as their names, and Stiles looked at each one. It appealed to him as an artist, all the effort and soul that came with it, and he was also glad to see some people happily complimenting the works.

And all throughout, Derek willingly accompanied him in looking at each one, gamely talking about the pieces and never once letting go of his hand.

After about half an hour, music was played over the speakers and Derek tugged on Stiles’ hand.

“Come on,” he said. “The show’s about to start.”

Stiles followed after him and they managed to find good seats near the middle section of the bleachers. They sat close, twined hands on top of Derek’s leg and Derek leaned close, recounting some of the events and shows he’s watched before during these events.

Derek was telling Stiles all about the puppet show he attended two years ago when someone walked out onto the small stage set up.

“That’s Ace Williams!” Stiles said, straightening in his seat. He looked around and saw Mr. and Mrs. Williams seated on the front row with Aaron.

“Good afternoon, friends, family, and guests,” Ace said, waving a hand to the crowd and beaming a large smile. He spoke slowly but steadily and Stiles couldn’t help squeezing Derek’s hand in between both of his, his smile so wide it almost hurt.

“Welcome to this year’s fund-raising for the National Down Syndrome Society,” Ace spoke on. “We thank you all for coming and hope you enjoy the show.”

Mr. and Mrs. Williams and Aaron were up on their feet clapping and Stiles let out a loud whoop, to the laughter of some in the audience and Derek. They waved to the Williams family who looked up and saw them in the crowd.

The show was short, just shy of thirty minutes. There were a few dance numbers and song numbers, even a memorable duet by a mother and her teenage daughter. There was even a magic show and everyone gamely volunteered when the magician, a smiling boy named Kevin who wore a red cap under his magician’s hat, asked to make someone’s head disappear.

After the show, Stiles and Derek were one with the crowd as they gave everyone a standing ovation, applause, and loud cheers. Stiles turned to Derek and grabbed his hand, squeezing it tightly and smiling widely as he tried to convey to him just how much he enjoyed and appreciated this.

And when Derek smiled back, leaned over, and kissed him lightly on the corner of the mouth, part of Stiles couldn’t help falling in love with the man.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I meant no disrespect towards people with Down Syndrome and I hope I do not offend anyone with this. I tried very hard to write this as respectfully and carefully as possible, and also to convey my heartfelt thoughts for everyone to please support people with Down Syndrome.
> 
> If you're from the PH, please support our [Down Syndrome Society of the Philippines (DSAPI)](http://dsapi.org/)  
> Find out all about the [National Down Syndrome Society ](http://www.ndss.org/)here:  
> And to everyone, please support your local foundations.  
> And also, constructive concrits are loved. Thank you very much.


	3. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kendal took on a softer tone. “You’re getting on with your commissions and artworks, I know, but when are you gonna continue on to major in art the way we all know you want to?”
> 
> “I don’t know,” Stiles said again.
> 
> “Is this still what you want?” Kendal asked and Stiles could feel her scrutinizing glare.
> 
> Stiles looked away. “I just haven’t decided yet.”
> 
> \---
> 
> “Say it,” Stiles encouraged him. “Unless it’ll piss me off even more than this day already has, in which case, I might have to punch your handsome face.”
> 
> Derek chuckled. The hesitation disappeared, but only just, and Derek’s thumb kept stroking his face.
> 
> “If I told you that I was going to ask if I could kiss you, would that be all right or would you punch my handsome face?” Derek asked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, a humongous **THANK YOU** to everybody for the kudos, comments, and reads. I hope you are all enjoying the story so far.

 

 ** _From:_** _Shortie Fran_  
**_Message:_** _WHAT HAPPENED?! CALL ME! ASAP!_

 ** _From:_** _Scottie Dog_  
**_Message:_** _wer u at? r u @ hale’s place? ;)_

 ** _From:_** _Jerkwad Whittemore_  
**_Message:_** _I’VE GOT MONEY RIDING ON YOU STILINSKI!_

 ** _From:_** _Sweet Allison_  
**_Message:_** _I hope you had fun on your date. I’ll make sure Jackson doesn’t bother you. Love you._

 ** _From:_** _Devil Lady Lydia_  
**_Message:_** _Did you have sex with him? How was it?_

 ** _From:_** _King Rob_  
**_Message:_** _bro. call Fran. PLS. i am happy ur date went well but I do not need her calling me @ fuck oclock in the am asking me if i’ve gotten in touch w/ u. tnx._

 ** _From:_** _Princess Jill_  
**_Message:_** _AM I GETTING MY DOCTOR BROTHER-IN-LAW?_

 ** _From:_** _Catwoman Erica_  
**_Message:_** _Almost kicked Derek in the face when he got home. Was expecting him to sleep over there. On your next date, I’ll make sure to send him back._

 ** _From:_** _Puppy Isaac_  
**_Message:_** _Derek was really happy when he got home last night :)_

 ** _From:_** _King Rob_  
**_Message:_** _Stiles? Did you and Dr. Hale have fun? – Ben – (Can I ask Dr. Hale for my own cellphone for my bday?)_

 ** _From:_** _Sheriff Dad_  
**_Message:_** _Why is Fran calling Robbie at 7AM? I heard them shouting your name. What did you do?_

* * *

 ** _From:_** _Derek_  
**_Message:_** _Good morning. Hope you slept well. And not that I mind, I promise. But how did Fran get my number?_

 ** _From:_** _Stiles_  
**_Message:_** _gud morning!! slept like a baby. tnx again for yesterday ^_^_  
_AND I AM SO SORRY! I WILL KILL HER! I SWEAR! >:(((_

* * *

Stiles wasn’t sure if he should count it as a blessing that he had such a supportive set of family and friends, because it seemed like they were doing nothing but embarrassing him at every turn. He was planning on spending his weekend catching up on his commissions and his own artworks - god knows he won’t be able to pay for his apartment if he didn’t get to work - but now all he had were people constantly bugging him.

He managed to answer everyone, giving a few cautiously-worded replies. Scott and Allison and Robbie got the full lowdown straight from a three-way-call, peppered with some heavy blushing and the occasional hysterical stuttering on Stiles’ part. Allison had to raise her voice over Scott’s excited cheering and Robbie was pacified that he got the whole story before Fran, who really had woken him up at an ungodly hour just to demand details. Jill, Lydia, and Jackson got flat-out ‘no’s in reply, except Jackson got a couple of curses mixed in. Isaac and Erica got simple ‘thank you, I’m happy it went well’ messages, especially since Stiles wasn’t quite sure what to reply to Erica's implications.

Stiles was a bit pissed at Fran, unable to believe that she deviously managed to get Derek’s number through Mrs. McCall, citing some half-baked ‘need to consult a doctor’ excuse. It took a lot of reassuring from Derek that he didn’t mind at all and that he had only received a message of: _‘if my brother didn’t enjoy himself, I’ll kill you in your sleep’_ , before Stiles texted his eldest sister a heavily edited version of the events.

It all worked out and Derek seemed more amused than bothered as he and Stiles exchanged text messages back and forth throughout the weekend.

It was Sunday when Stiles received an unexpected call.

***Incoming call: Ms. Grant***

Stiles jammed the button for speakerphone and kept on with his sketch.

“Hey, Ms. G. What’s up?”

 _“Hello, my Genim.”_ Ms. G’s voice came in soft and familiar through the phone. _“How are you this weekend?”_

Stiles’ eyes flickered between the picture he was copying and the paper. “I’m doing well, doing some stuff for a few clients. How are you?”

_“I am currently at Duke Mayer’s.”_

Stiles straightened, cracking his spine. He eyed everything on his work table. “Sounds awesome. How’s the old man?”

_“He’s doing well, complaining about his hip as usual. I received a call from him, which is why I dropped by here. T_ _hey received a delivery today and there are quite a lot of interesting materials. I found a recent edition of Ocvirk’s work, the same one you’ve been looking for. I asked Duke Mayer to put it on reserve for you.”_

Stiles grabbed the phone excitedly. “Seriously? The 2013 edition? Oh my god! Ms. G, you are awesome! Thank you!”

Ms. G laughed. _“You are welcome, my darling. The new delivery is a sudden thing and Duke Mayer was kind enough to let me have first pick. I also set aside some things for you. Duke Mayer’s asking when you can come pick them up.”_

Stiles bit his lip, running a hand through his hair. “Probably Wednesday after class, if that’s all right with him?”

There were a few murmurs at the other end before Ms. G came back on.

_“Wednesday it is. He’s looking forward to seeing you.”_

“Thanks so much,” Stiles said. “Please tell him I’ll come see him soon.”

* * *

After two hours, Stiles packed two art tubes and three boxes of artworks into his Jeep and set off to make deliveries. It took a lot of trial and error and advice from Ms. G before he got the hang of wrapping, packaging, and shipping his works. By now, he was a pro and he had gotten to know some of the personnel at the delivery company who were always nice enough to ensure his works were delivered in tiptop condition.

After dropping everything off, Stiles had a few more stops to go and after half an hour, he was walking the familiar path to the cemetery.

The crunch of gravel was loud under his feet and he took a deep breath of the scent of autumn in the air and the small bouquet of orange blossoms in his hand. They were his mother’s favorite. It wasn’t really a bouquet though, just six little flowers arranged in a little stand with one pink camellia tucked in. The scent of it made Stiles’ chest ache.

He found the grave, looking down at the grey tombstone: _Claudia G. Stilinski_. The grave was fairly clean, which meant his Dad had probably dropped by sometime in the last week. He crouched down, brushing away some of the dust and then placed the small offering on top.

“Hey, mom,” he said softly.

He placed a hand on the tombstone and offered a small prayer before standing up and brushing off his jeans. He was never one to talk during these visits. Just a quick drop of the flowers and he was off. He rubbed his chest, his heart aching a little.

With one last bittersweet smile, Stiles walked away.

* * *

Stiles hesitated before getting out of his Jeep, his gaze flickering up to the hospital.

Should he? Or shouldn’t he?

It wasn’t like he couldn’t just walk in. He knew Derek would be happy to see him… or at least seventy-five percent sure. And they were dating… sorta? Even though they hadn’t exactly made plans for a second date. Yet.

Stiles took a deep breath and straightened his glasses. Yeah. Derek would be glad to see him.

He got stopped about six times on his way to Derek’s office. It was nice to chat with some of the staff and say hello to some of the patients, but Stiles half-wondered when his Dad was going to get wind of this. No doubt he would find out soon enough that Stiles was hanging out with Derek, if not from the hospital staff or the townsfolk then from Fran’s big mouth.

His Dad probably wouldn’t mind though. Derek was good company and his Dad liked him, but Stiles could already see the embarrassment that would come from his Dad’s questions on the nature of their… er, association. Stiles was still horrified over the fact that he and his Dad had The Talk twice, covering both bases after he came clean about his bisexuality.

“Derek’s in his office, Stiles, honey,” Melissa said, a gleam in her eyes. “Go on.”

Scratch that. Melissa would totally be the one to blab to his Dad.

The door to Derek’s office was open and when Stiles peeked inside, Derek was busy at his desk. He was poring over some files and scribbling on a notepad. He looked really serious, his brow creased and his ‘doctor face’ turned on. He would occasionally rub his free hand through his stubble, or would take a sip of his mug.

Stiles took a second to admire him. He was still amazed at the differences and similarities between this Derek and the Derek that he went out with last Friday. A warm feeling bubbled up in the pit of his belly at the realization that he got to see both. And would continue getting to.

“Knock, knock,” Stiles said.

Derek looked up from his desk. His face turned from serious to surprised. “Stiles?”

“That’s me,” Stiles grinned, fiddling with his glasses self-consciously. “Um… Can I come in?”

Derek still looked surprised. “Yes, sure.”

Stiles suddenly wondered if maybe this wasn’t a good idea. “…Or if you’re busy, I could just–”

Derek’s surprise turned into panic. “No, I mean. Really. Come on in.” He waved him over.

Stiles stepped inside and for a second, contemplated between leaving the door open or closing it, before deciding it was a stupid thing to have an issue with. He closed it.

“Just thought I’d drop by to see you,” Stiles said. “If that’s ok? I mean. I had a few errands actually so I thought I’d come see you. I wanted to text but… yeah, I probably should have texted, but I thought I’d just drop in and surprise you. Just, you know, come see and hope work’s not eating you.”

For some reason, Derek still looked completely taken aback at seeing him, but with each ramble, Stiles could see him relaxing in increments until in the end, Derek was smiling.

“No. I’m just doing some paperwork.” Derek waved him over to sit across the desk. “And I’m sorry I looked thrown. I just didn’t expect to see you here.”

“That was kinda the point of the surprise?” Stiles asked, teasingly.

Derek chuckled. “And you succeeded.” He smiled at Stiles, looking closely at him.

“What?” Stiles asked, when the silence stretched on a bit. “Something on my face?”

Derek shook his head. “For the record, you can drop by anytime. I like it.”

Stiles grinned. “Good to know.”

Derek suddenly jerked. “Oh. Um. I don’t have much, except for coffee and… pretty much just coffee.”

Stiles couldn’t help laughing. “Chill, Derek. Seriously. I didn’t expect anything. And this is like, the hospital anyway so, the most I was expecting you to offer me was a flu shot or something.” He paused. “Then again, I don’t like needles.”

Derek looked embarrassed and Stiles grinned teasingly.

“Anyway, I had a reason for the visit actually.” He scratched his head. “I wanted to ask you if you are free on Wednesday. I mean, it’s the middle of the week so I already know you’re gonna be busy, but I thought I’d ask and hope you could–”

“I can make it work,” Derek blurted out, cutting through Stiles’ tirade. “Why?”

Stiles bounced a little on his seat. “Oh, well, that’s great! Are you sure? Like, you might have some patients or meetings and stuff?”

“I can do it,” Derek insisted. “Don’t worry. What’s up?”

“Well,” Stiles scratched his ear. “I have to go to this art shop downtown and I thought if you were free maybe around four o’clock, you could come with me.”

“Art shop?” Derek asked.

Stiles nodded. “Yeah, it’s called Duke Mayer and it’s totally awesome. I get some of my art supplies there and Duke Mayer is this really old guy, around fifty years old or something. And yeah, I always thought it was a bit cheesy for the owner to name his shop with his own, but everyone’s gotten used to it and the Duke is sometimes cranky, but he’s really got an eye for art, especially the valuable ones. And he’s also into a lot of things like gardening and…” He paused. “I should stop rambling. I’m sorry. I got talking.” Stiles bit his lip, embarrassed.

Derek laughed, one of his low, pleased rumbles. “No, it’s all right. You talked like this back at the gym last Friday. When you were talking about some of the artworks, you got really excited.” His eyes crinkled at the corners.

Stiles felt warm spots on his cheeks. “Yeah. Anything art-related gets me all hyped up, or more hyped up than usual, I guess.”

“It’s adorable,” Derek said. At Stiles’ indignant glare, he schooled his face into blankness, “In a really manly way.”

“Whatever,” Stiles said, kicking his knee lightly against Derek’s table to make the metal clang. “See if I invite you to all the manly art shops I know.”

Derek laughed, kicking back his side of the table to make it clang. “I can get off work at four on Wednesday. You can show me your manly art shop and change my mind.”

Stiles grinned. “Ok. I will then.”

* * *

“This project will constitute fifteen percent of your grade for this semester, so I expect you all to put some effort into this. Now get going.”

The students left the lecture hall as fast as they could and Stiles grabbed his backpack, ready to hightail it out of there and meet up with the gang for lunch.

“Stilinski, a word please.”

Stiles waved goodbye to a few of his classmates heading out. He walked over to the front where Professor Jude was waiting for him, her hip against the edge of her desk.

“You called, Prof?”

Jude smiled and handed him a piece of paper. “Just a message.”

 _Stiles S._  
_Meet me after lunch._  
_Kendal M._

Stiles groaned.

An hour later, he was opening the door to the small but posh office of Professor Kendal, his academic advisor. She was in her late twenties with hair dyed platinum blonde and thick red lips. She had been Stiles’ advisor since he was eighteen and a budding freshman, and even after he came back to school from his leave of absence.

Stiles liked Professor Kendal, but was a bit wary of her, especially after finding out that she minored in Psychology and tended to psychoanalyze her advisees. She wasn’t the most well-liked of advisors, but that was because she was sharp-tongued, never bothered putting up with anyone’s crap, and tended to act like a student. Like right now, she had her bare feet propped up on her table, chair tilted back, and tossing M&Ms into her mouth. The room smelled slightly of smoke.

“Smoked a ciggy, Prof. K?” Stiles asked, tossing his bag on a chair.

Kendal wrinkled her nose, tossing some candy into her mouth. “Shit. Thought I already aired it out. Crack a window, would you, Stilinski?”

Stiles opened the window, pulling the drapes wide. He then tossed himself down across from her.

“M&Ms?” Kendal asked, pointing to the ostentatious glass punch bowl full of M&Ms on her desk. There was a small shot glass beside it. Another infamous thing about her is her love for sweets.

“Sure.” Stiles scooped up a shot glass of the candies and started tossing them into his mouth.

Kendal scooped up some for herself. She started talking, even with her mouth full. “I'm not going to ask you about your grades, Stilinski. Not that it isn’t a concern, because it is. But I’ve heard nothing but good things about you and your big brain – you and Robbie too, by the way, if you want to know – so we can cut all that bull’s crap out of this nice little chat.”

“I’d appreciate that,” Stiles said.

“Is Manhattan knocking at Robbie's door yet?” Kendal asked, grabbing something from the floor. It was a bottle of beer. She took a swig.

“M&Ms and beer? Not in good taste, Prof. K,” Stiles couldn’t help commenting. “And no, Manhattan’s still denying him the truth of him becoming the best chef in the country.”

“It’s my chocolate and my beer. Shut your face,” Kendal said. “And those Manhattan bitches would be stupid to not nab him.”

“Nice of you to say.”

“Your brother made me rum cake and dirty Girl Scout cupcakes for my birthday,” Kendal said, sighing happily. “Now that is a chef.”

Stiles laughed. There was nothing quite like alcohol and sweets to charm Professor Kendal.

Kendal took another swig. “By the way, you seeing anybody, Stilinski?”

“Yeah, kind of.” Stiles blushed. “It’s going ok, actually.”

She snorted. “Wow. That sounds exciting.”

He scoffed. “Oh, sure, because you live a budding romance novel yourself.”

Kendal waved a hand. “I live vicariously through my idiotic students, which is pretty much all the cheesy B-list, romcoms I could ever need.”

“So, as enlightening as this conversation has been, why’d you call me?” Stiles asked.

“This is the third time I’ve asked you this question,” Kendal said, and if Stiles didn’t see her sharp expression, he’d still think her slack posture meant she wasn’t being serious. “So I am gonna ask you again. Have you decided to continue on and major in art?”

Stiles suppressed a sigh. “I don’t know.”

Kendal didn’t look pleased by that answer. She took a swig of her beer and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.

“Because, honey, you are on your second year of college – would have been your third if you hadn’t taken that leave of absence – and with all the summer courses and advanced courses you’ve taken on, you have already completed the minimum number of credits and subjects required of any student. It’s preferable that by now, you pick the prerequisites for your major subjects or, in your case, apply to your art school of choice.”

Stiles was quiet. Professor Kendal knew that he knew all that.

Kendal took on a softer tone. “You’re getting on with your commissions and artworks, I know, but when are you gonna continue on to major in art the way we all know you want to?”

“I don’t know,” Stiles said again.

“Is this still what you want?” Kendal asked and Stiles could feel her scrutinizing glare.

Stiles looked away. “I just haven’t decided yet.” He stood up. “Classes are going to start soon, Prof. Can I go now?”

He walked off without waiting for an answer, ignoring Professor Kendal’s heavy sigh.

* * *

The rest of his day didn’t fare much better. Stiles was dumped with a heavy paper due next week, a surprise quiz, a group project, and a report. By the time he was pulling up in the parking lot of the hospital and waiting for Derek to come out, his grip on the steering wheel was tight enough to turn his knuckles white. It loosened when he saw Derek walking out of the hospital, his briefcase and coat on hand. He spotted the jeep instantly and Stiles could see the way his eyes crinkled at the sides as he smiled brightly, waving a hand.

When Derek slipped inside, Stiles’ hold on the steering wheel had loosened and he managed to dredge up a half-smile. Seeing Derek was enough to have him relaxing and resolving to move on from such a crappy day.

“You all set?” Stiles asked, trying to go for upbeat and knowing he failed miserably by the way Derek’s smile melted off his face.

“Is everything ok?” Derek asked, tilting his head a little. His confused and concerned face warmed Stiles’ demeanor a little.

“I’m fine, really. I swear,” Stiles said, nodding.

Stiles could see Derek’s gaze zero in on his tense shoulders. He lifted a hand and hesitated for a moment. Stiles was glad when Derek gave him one more look, and placed it against his shoulder.

“It’s nothing to…” Stiles tapered off with a groan. He was glad when Derek’s hand moved from his shoulder to the back of his neck. His large hand was warm and just the right side of rough, slotting against his neck and squeezing a little. Stiles shoulders sagged.

“I just had a really crappy day,” he said, taking off his glasses and pinching the bridge of his nose. He squeezed his eyes shut. “It was one thing after another and I just feel really, really tired.”

Derek squeezed the back of his neck again and Stiles felt his shoulders sag even more until he was tilting his head back and squishing Derek’s hand against the backseat. It was warm and felt really, really nice. He tilted his head to the side to look at Derek, smiling gratefully.

Derek smiled back, but his face turned curious as he looked at Stiles.

“What?”

Derek shook his head, giving him a smile. “It’s just the first time I’ve ever seen you without your glasses on.”

“Oh?” Stiles placed his hand on his face with one hand. He could feel the ridges the square frames made on his nose and cheeks. He rubbed them, flushing.

“Can you see my face like this?” Derek asked curiously. “How blurry are your eyes?”

Stiles shrugged. “I’m near-sighted actually, but my sight is not that bad. I can still see you pretty clearly this far. I can go out without them and I don’t wear glasses at home, but since I drive around and I do my art stuff, I just wear them all the time. Contact lenses give me a headache.”

“You look good without them,” Derek said softly, his expression so sincere that it made Stiles blush. “Well, you look good with them too.”

Stiles chuckled, rubbing his cheek self-consciously. “Thanks.”

He then noticed Derek’s hand was still at his neck. Before he could debate between shrugging it off or just letting it stay there – even through the entire ride, he didn’t mind, not at all – Derek’s thumb started rubbing slowly against the junction of his jaw, right below his ear. Stiles suppressed a shiver.

“Stiles?” Derek asked, looking at him closely.

“Yeah?”

Derek opened his mouth, only to hesitate. Stiles could see the telltale flicker in his eyes that always happened whenever Derek was holding back. Stiles couldn’t help pressing his cheek a little against Derek’s thumb, noting the quirk of Derek’s lip at that.

“Say it,” Stiles encouraged him. “Unless it’ll piss me off even more than this day already has, in which case, I might have to punch your handsome face.”

Derek chuckled. The hesitation disappeared, but only just, and Derek’s thumb kept stroking his face.

“If I told you that I was going to ask if I could kiss you, would that be all right or would you punch my, as you say, handsome face?”

Stiles flushed, warm and sudden, and felt a bit mortified at realizing that without his glasses, Derek could see the unattractive splotch across his cheekbones and neck. He swallowed and Derek’s thumb moved to press along his throat, just below his Adam’s apple.

“Yes. T-to the kiss, I mean. Not the punch.”

Derek was satisfied at that and leaned over between the seats, unhesitating now that Stiles had given his permission. He tilted Stiles head back just a fraction and pressed their lips together.

This was their second kiss after that peck on the cheek at the gym last Friday, but it was also their first _real_ one. It was chaste and sweet, just the tender press of Derek’s warm and chapped lips against his. Derek leaned back a little and they looked at one another, Stiles’ honey brown meeting Derek’s deep green. Derek kept his gaze locked with Stiles and Stiles couldn’t risk licking his tingling lips.

Stiles smiled. “That was nice.”

Derek’s smile was soft and Stiles’ heart thudded faster in his chest. Derek surged forward again, one hand at his neck and the other coming up to Stiles’ shoulder. Stiles lifted a hand, rubbing his palm against Derek’s stubble.

Despite how long he’s been attracted to Derek, kissing him wasn’t anything special, like fireworks in his head or some cheesy love song ringing in his ears as background music. Kissing Derek was its own kind of special, like the tingly feeling in his lips, the way he could feel Derek’s stubble against his face and under his palm, and the gentle way Derek held his face. It was the way Stiles closed his eyes and smelled Derek around him, strongly of hospital chemical and disinfectant with the masculine undertones of bergamot and musk. It was the way Derek tilted his head and moved his lips against Stiles, soft and slow like he was enjoying the kiss too.

Stiles pressed forward a little more, flicking out his tongue to trace lightly against the seam of Derek’s lips. There was a rumble from Derek, a delicious vibration against Stiles’ face and palm, before Derek opened his lips, letting Stiles inside.

Stiles had his fair share of kisses before. Some were good, some were bad, and a few were icky and a bit too wet for his liking. Still, he could appreciate the myriad of experiences he had because at least now he knew enough to try and make it good for Derek.

Stiles hummed a little under his throat as he licked inside Derek’s mouth, slow and sure against the roof of his mouth and teasing and smooth against his tongue. When Stiles retreated, Derek followed, and Stiles could feel the contrast of their kiss. Derek moved with a purpose, his lips and tongue molding against Stiles’ with a sweeping intensity and when he moved back, he was all teeth, with soft nips against Stiles’ bottom lip and tongue.

It didn’t last that long, but long enough and when they pulled back, both their breaths came in a tad bit short.

“At the risk of sounding corny, that definitely made this day much, much better,” Stiles admitted, chuckling. Their faces were still close and Stiles smiled when Derek flickered between his eyes and his lips. He felt calmer now, despite the warmth and excitement bubbling under his skin.

Derek smiled. “That’s good. I didn’t like seeing you all stressed out.”

It felt unreal to have solid proof that Derek liked him, liked him enough to kiss him, and to go on a date, and hopefully more dates, with him, and to care enough when Stiles felt awful. Stiles chest tightened pleasantly.

“Well, you definitely accomplished that.” Stiles pulled back gently and Derek let him go. He put on his glasses. “But we still have to get to Duke Mayer’s.”

Stiles set the Jeep into drive and pulled out of the parking space, unsurprised when Derek reached over to hold his hand once it was free.

* * *

“This is pretty amazing,” Derek said as he looked around.

Stiles walked around the car, standing next to Derek. He’s used to the Duke’s place but he still felt a bit of satisfaction at Derek’s stunned face, all wide-eyed and mouth hanging open slightly as he looked around.

Duke Mayer lived at the edge of town, almost right in the forest. Wooden steps dug into the earth made a path around the trees and up to a two-storey cabin, complete with a wide porch that wrapped around the entire house and a small greenhouse to the side. It was half-past five o’clock and the Duke had already turned on the porch lights and the small light in the greenhouse, giving everything into a rustic but homey look.

“Come on. I’m dying to introduce you.”

Stiles reached out, offering his hand, and he couldn’t help the giddy feeling in his chest when Derek took it, still looking around at everything. He checked that he had the paperbag he needed in his other hand before leading Derek up the path.

“Duke Mayer is a sculptor,” Stiles said. “He was really popular way back in the day, but he retired after his wife got pregnant and moved here to Beacon Hills. He still does a sculpture every now and then, and he's still pretty much in demand. Once, there was this Scottish woman who offered him, like, thousands for an original sculpture.”

“Did he make one for her?” Derek asked.

Stiles shook his head. “Nope, but he did make one for this Korean guy who could only speak, like, ten words in English and whose fiancée was a big fan of the Duke’s. My Dad found him walking around town after he was conned out of money by some crooked cab driver. The Duke made him one for free, customized and special for the wedding, and saw the guy off to the airport.”

“Wow,” Derek said. “That’s something.”

Stiles shouldered open the door, the bell at the top letting out a small ring. “He doesn’t do much sculpting now, unless he feels like it, and especially because his hip has been bugging him a little.”

They walk inside the shop and Stiles couldn’t help inhaling the scent. It was a mixture of fresh paint and clean cloth with a metallic twang and the hints of cedarwood incense the Duke liked. There were paintings on the walls, sculptures on the floor and tables, shelves of paint, rolls and rolls of cloth, canvases, easels, and two large bookshelves along the walls at the other end of the room. Behind the wooden counter near the shelves was a woman, rotund and grey-haired with a smiling face.

“Stiles!” She called out.

Stiles ran off to her, arms held out. He placed the paperbag on the counter before they gave each other a warm hug.

“Hi, Mrs. Duchess, ma’am.” Stiles grinned at her.

“How lovely to see you, my boy,” she said. “Oh, you look so much more handsome every time I see you.”

“Aww, shucks,” Stiles said, smiling. He turned to Derek and waved him over. “Derek, this is Mrs. Evelyn Mayer. But we all call her Mrs. Duchess. Mrs. Duchess, this is Derek Hale. He’s the new doctor at BH Hospital.”

Without preamble, Mrs. Mayer drew Derek towards her, wrapping her arms around him. Derek looked at Stiles over her shoulder, a bit stunned, but politely returned the hug.

“It’s nice to meet you… um… Mrs. Duchess.”

Mrs. Mayer laughed. “Oh, I have heard about you, Derek. My husband and I don’t really leave the house and we have a housekeeper for our needs, but we get a lot of visitors here and many gossipy ones too. It is such a pleasure to finally meet you. You’re a lot more handsome than the stories say.”

“Gossipy ones, really now,” Stiles said, sighing. Derek flushed at Mrs. Mayer’s words.

Mrs. Mayer waved them over. “The Duke is at the back but he is expecting you, Stiles. Go on ahead.”

Stiles nodded. “Ok, sure. We’ll–”

“Oh, leave me and Derek to it,” Mrs. Mayer said, making shooing motions. “It has been a while since I’ve been in the presence of such good-looking company. But I’ll get you something to drink first. Do you like tea, Derek? Or would you prefer coffee?”

“Tea is fine, ma’am,” Derek said.

Mrs. Mayer walked off towards the back and Stiles leaned towards Derek.

“Is this ok? I swear I’ll hurry.”

Derek shook his head. “No, it’s fine. Mrs. Duchess reminds me a lot of my grandmother.”

Stiles lowered his voice. “Ok, just remember: Don’t say anything that you don’t want the entire town finding out in about twenty-four hours. Mrs. Duchess has her own army of gossiping ladies. Beware of her questions. She’s a really good interrogator. And she’s most likely gonna ask about me… or you… er… about us. I’m not putting it past her.”

“Us?” Derek looked at him in confusion, then his expression closed off. “Should I–”

“I didn’t mean anything, like… I don’t know. I just mean that if you don’t want people… er… you know, if you don’t want people knowing I’m with you…” Stiles rubbed the back of his neck.

“Why wouldn’t I?” Derek asked.

Stiles wasn’t stupid and it wasn’t like he was suffering from an unhealthy dose of insecurity. Against all odds, Derek was obviously attracted to him. He asked to kiss him, obviously enjoyed kissing him, held his hand, and agreed to come with him on something that was more of an errand rather than a date. All he meant was that if Derek didn’t want people finding out right now, then he should know that Stiles wouldn’t mind.

Derek’s face paled a little and he looked stunned. “Stiles, I don’t… You think I’m embarrassed about being with you?”

Before Stiles could answer, Mrs. Mayer was back, carrying a small tray.

“Anything going on, darlings?” she asked.

Stiles shook his head quickly, sending Derek a silencing look. This was neither the time nor the place, especially not with Mrs. Mayer likely to broadcast his and Derek’s conversation and whatnot to the entire town by tomorrow morning.

“No. We’re good. I’ll just pop over at the back to see the Duke.”

Stiles slung his arm through the handle of the paperbag and grabbed two mugs from Mrs. Mayer before jogging out to the back. He paused just around the corner and took a breath.

That conversation with Derek escalated quickly. It wasn’t like he was insinuating anything. He just meant that since they’ve only been seeing each other for _a week_  he wouldn’t entirely mind if Derek told other people they were just friends.

It was obvious Derek took it the wrong way. Stiles had to clear that up later.

Stiles walked on down the hall to the workshop, making his steps loud. The last time he forgot to announce his presence, the Duke swiped a wet paintbrush across his face in surprise.

“I have come bearing tea,” Stiles announced. “And artwork that will make you drool.”

“HA!” Duke scoffed loudly. “That will be them days, boy.”

The Duke was a large man, thick arms, a bald spot on top, and a beard. He was kind of like if Santa Claus was built like a muscular lumberjack. He was in his workshop, a small room filled with tables and stools, little figurines, clay molds, drawings, chewed-on pencils, and more This was where Duke planned most of his sculptures or played around with clay before he got inspired. Only a handful of people were allowed in here. There was an adjoining room where the other half of his workshop contained most of his sculptures and all of his equipment accessible only to the Duke and Mrs. Duchess.

“What is happening, my Duke and Master?” Stiles said, handing him his mug of warm tea and sitting down on a stool.

Duke took a sip of his tea, a jolly rumble coming from his tummy. It always tickled Stiles’ insides and made him smile.

“'ave to get ‘em winter buds ready for Christmas. Green’ouse is full and them customers be comin’ in soon. Plus, I got a buncha idiots comin’ in to get me sculptures,” Duke said. “Got a Russian toad in ‘ere last week slapping rubles at me. Told ‘im to leave or else I’d punch ‘is face in.”

Stiles chuckled. “And, let me guess, you had to punch his face in?”

Duke laughed. “Almost did, but the missus just shooed ‘im out. Not interested in ‘is god awful money.”

“You never are,” Stiles said, and wasn’t that one of the best things about the cranky old man. “How’s your hip?”

As expected, there was a groan. “Thing’s been bugging me for weeks. Missus got me walkin’ it off every crack’a dawn. And she got them ‘erbal soothers. Good stuff.”

“If you want, we can get my friend to look at it,” Stiles said. “He came with me, but Mrs. Duchess has him tied up now. He’s a doctor, name’s Derek Hale.”

“Nah. Them ‘erbal soothers doing the job,” Duke said, taking another sip of his tea. “And Derek ‘ale you say? Be that good-looking doctor that moved in town them ladies are tittering on about?”

Stiles laughed. “Well, I don’t know who these ladies are and why they’re tittering about, but Derek is the newcomer in town, moved in a couple of months ago. You can meet him later.”

Duke nodded. “Your brood, ‘ow’s them all?”

“Dad’s good, still can’t walk away from all the greasy stuff, but Robbie’s healthy cooking is keeping him in check. Fran’s visiting next month. I’ll ask her to stop by. Ben and Jill are good, grades are doing just fine.”

“Good to ‘ear.” Duke groaned as he stood up. He pointed to the paperbag. “What you got for me there, boy?”

“I’ve been working on some character designs for a client. She e-mailed a few drawings, but the designs are a bit surrealistic. I have the body proportions down pat, but I was hoping for a second opinion on the movement.” Stiles pulled out his clientele portfolio and spread out the drawings on a free table. He also pulled out some clay models he’d been making to help visualize his work.

The Duke gamely looked over his work, emphasizing points here and there using the clay model, as Stiles took down notes diligently. The Duke was known for sculpting anything, ranging from abstract to animals to people using everything from metal to clay. However, his specialty was in the human body captured in traditional stone and wood. If anybody knew proportions and bodies, it was him.

It only took about twenty minutes and after that, all the tea was gone and Stiles was packing everything away.

“Thank you so much,” Stiles said. “You are a lifesaver, sir.”

Duke nodded, grabbing his mug. “By the way, never got to askin’. You takin’ on characters for your art school, boy?”

Stiles froze.

The Duke turned off the small lamp. “Ken’s told me you’se been thinkin’.”

It was really expected of Stiles’ luck that Duke Mayer was Professor Kendal Mayer’s father.

“I haven’t decided, actually.” Stiles followed him back out to the storefront. “I’ll think about it.”

The Duke nodded. “I seen your works. Not gonna surprise me if you pick them characters. All them kids in town always liked you’se little drawings, all them funny stuff with oddball stories. You got a good sense’a those things, boy.”

Coming from Duke Mayer, that was a compliment and Stiles couldn’t help smiling at it. However, knowing that Professor Kendal was most likely recruiting even her own father to bug Stiles was not something he liked.

They reached the front to see Mrs. Mayer and Derek perusing some of the books on the shelves. Their laughing tapered off upon seeing Stiles and the Duke.

“You ok?” Stiles asked Derek. It was two questions in one, about Mrs. Mayer most likely pulling an inquisition on him and about the two of them being _okay_.

“Yes.” Derek nodded, smiling.

Derek was smiling and looking so relaxed that Stiles was itching to touch him, but Derek seemed to have decided for the both of them as he reached over to hold Stiles’ hand.

“You enjoyed yourself?” Derek asked, and his eyes looked so soft and fond that Stiles didn’t even care about the way kindly Mrs. Mayer was eyeing them like a hawk.

Stiles nodded in reply.

“Honey, come say hello,” Mrs. Mayer said, waving him over. “This is Derek, the new doctor in town.”

“I been told,” Duke said. He sent a not-at-all subtle glance at their twined hands. “Good to meet you, boy.”

“You too, sir,” Derek said, letting go of Stiles. They shook hands all manly-like that Stiles couldn’t help giggling at the sight.

“Mathilda Grant’s got them books for our boy here,” Duke Mayer said to his wife. “Picked ‘em out Sunday.”

“Oh, yes,” Mrs. Mayer said. “Come along, darling.”

As Mrs. Mayer gathered all the books from Ms. Grant, Stiles watched Derek and the Duke talking. Derek was all charm and polite smiles and it was so obvious that the Duke was taking well to him the same way Mrs. Duchess had. Stiles couldn’t help smiling when both men started some light-handed banter, arguing back and forth.

“Here you go, darling.”

Stiles looked back to see Mrs. Mayer softly laughing, obviously at him. He flushed.

“Thank you, Mrs. Mayer. How m– Ms. G recommended all _this_?” He gaped. There were about six art books in there. Ms. G usually recommended only about two or three.

“She did,” Mrs. Mayer said. “Quite a collection. Even I was surprised.”

“That’s… a lot,” Stiles said, looking at them. He mentally counted his cash. He probably won’t be able to pay for all these. “How much?”

“All taken care of, darling,” Mrs. Mayer said, a finger tapping the book on top. “No need to worry.”

“T-taken care of?” Stiles gaped. Books like these were not cheap.

“He is very enamored of you, my darling,” Mrs. Mayer said instead, smiling. “Quite an old-fashioned word, but that’s the best word I can use for it.”

Stiles was even more confused at the non sequitur, though of course there was only one _he_ they could be taking about. “What?”

Mrs. Mayer started laughing again and before Stiles could ask, there was a hand on the small of his back.

“You ready to go?” Derek asked.

“Um… yeah?” Stiles looked at Mrs. Mayer. “I just…”

“I’ll just wrap these up, Derek,” Mrs. Mayer said.

“We’re good, Mrs. Duchess,” Derek said. “They’re not that heavy.” Derek swept up four of the larger books and easily tucked them against his chest.

Stiles was still trying to keep up, but everyone seemed to be in on something he wasn’t.

“Nice meetin’, boy,” Duke said, shaking Derek’s hand one last time. “Get Stiles ‘ere straight ‘ome.” After Derek nodded, the Duke turned to Stiles. “Be seein’ you, my boy. Say ‘ello to your brood.”

“Y-Yes, sure.” Stiles nodded. “Thanks so much. You too, Mrs. Duchess.”

Mrs. Mayer kissed him on the cheek. “Be safe on the way home, boys.”

Derek tugged gently on Stiles’ hand and Stiles pulled the other books to him and slung his bag over a shoulder. Stiles only got it by the time Derek had led him back down the path and placed all the books and the bag in the jeep.

“Wait!” Stiles tugged on Derek’s arm. “Derek, did you pay for all my–”

And then Derek was on him, pushing him back against the jeep and attacking his mouth.

Derek pressed his entire body against him, all solid and warm muscle, one hand at the back of his neck and the other at his lower back. Stiles wrapped his arms around Derek, pressing everything of them together. The kiss was open-mouthed and borderline-filthy, just the type to get Stiles’ knees shaking. Derek’s tongue was in his mouth, smooth, silky, and exploring, and practically marking every inch. His stubble was a delicious friction against Stiles’ face and Stiles couldn’t help the moan crawling its way up his throat.

When Derek pulled back, Stiles didn’t even have time to suck in some needed oxygen before Derek was kissing a path down his neck, pausing to mouth as his Adam’s apple. Stiles could only grip the fabric of Derek’s shirt and try and lean his head back further. He was already pinned to the jeep so all he managed to do was arch his back a little, hissing when it gave Derek the right vantage point to settle his lips right into the V of his collarbone and mouth the spot.

“Derek,” Stiles moaned, panting. “Derek. Shit. Oh god.”

Derek bit the spot gently, soothing the painful edge with his warm mouth, before pulling back.

“I didn’t want there to be mixed signals,” he said, voice rough and deep.

“About what?” Stiles asked, knowing his voice sounded just as rough and a little breathless.

“About me wanting you,” Derek said, straight to the point and looking Stiles in the eye.

Stiles couldn’t resist leaning forward to peck him on the mouth.

“Yeah,” Stiles said, their breaths mingling between them, both of them unable and unwilling to move away. “I definitely get that now.”

Derek looked to the side, fidgeting. “I didn’t want you to think I was embarrassed to be seen with you or for you to think that I’m not taking you seriously.”

Stiles was surprised at that. “Derek, I… That’s not even…” He paused and took a breath. “I meant that everyone kinda already knows I have this thing for you, like Robbie and Fran and Jill, and all my stupid friends. I just thought you deserved a choice in that, at least, since we’ve only been seeing each other for like a week.”

Derek was obviously mulling that thought over in his head and Stiles was a bit confused. He wanted Derek and Derek wanted him, but Stiles was being a realist. A week didn’t equate to a lifetime. They weren’t even in a relationship, just dating, and he knew they needed to get to know each other better. It was that easy or, at least, it was supposed to be.

Stiles nudged Derek’s forehead with his own until Derek was looking at him again.

“Derek, I don’t really get why you’re so worried. I am not embarrassed to be seen with you because, seriously, have you seen you in the mirror? And I know you’re taking me seriously, even if I am kind of wondering if you aren’t embarrassed to be seen with me.” Derek interrupted him with a hard kiss on the mouth and Stiles had to mutter the rest to his lips. “Derek, you took me to an event that meant a lot to you. You told me personal things about yourself. I get that and I appreciate it and I want more of that and I’m trying to do it too. So you don’t have to be so worried because so far, dude, you are doing pretty awesome.”

“Thank you,” Derek said, nuzzling his nose against Stiles’ cheek.

“And I’m a one-man kinda guy. I’m not really into dating just anybody. So, I hope you know I’m kind of serious about trying this out too,” Stiles added, muttering it to Derek’s temple and kissing his hair.

Derek nodded, stubble rubbing against Stiles’ face and breathing warm against his ear.

They stood in each other’s arms for a while before Stiles gently let go, pecking Derek on the cheek just because he could.

“Come on,” Stiles said. “Dinner’s on me this time.”

Derek nodded, climbing into the Jeep.

The ride was silent but comfortable. They didn’t hold hands this time, but they sent each other glances and smiles every now and then. After a while, they reached Stiles’ apartment. The apartment building was small and squat, four-storey high, and housed Stiles, his landlord and his family of three, and twelve other families and tenants.

Stiles turned to Derek. “Now, I can’t exactly cook like Robbie, but I can make delicious garlic chicken and potatoes and I have really good brownies up in my apartment, if that’s ok?”

Derek smiled. “I’d love that.”

They grabbed Stiles’ books and bags and Stiles led him inside.

“It’s got four floors. I’m on the third,” Stiles said as he led Derek up the staircase. “The landlord and his family live on the first. The second floor is for Mr. and Mrs. Cho and their baby, and Violet Parks.”

“I’ve met her,” Derek said. “She owns the bookstore downtown, right?”

Stiles nodded. “She has the most amazing library in her room. Everyone in the building is allowed to borrow them so long as we give them back. The third floor is mine, and also for my neighbors, the Clark twins and their mom. They’re classmates with Jill. I think Ezekiel, the older twin, has a crush on her.”

They passed the second floor and continued on up as Stiles snickered. “The fourth floor is all for the Murphys. They already have like, three kids and Mrs. Murphy is pregnant. Methinks they’re trying to catch up to the Stilinskis.”

Derek laughed, a low and throaty one that had Stiles grinning wide.

They reached the third floor and Stiles led him to 3B. He paused for a second, thinking quickly if he left anything embarrassing lying around. There was just his school stuff and his artworks and he already did the laundry yesterday. He thought about his bed, but he didn't usually make the bed anyway.

“It’s your place, Stiles,” Derek said, noting his hesitation. “I’d want to see it even if you lived in a wet cardboard box.” He paused. “Though with those conditions, I’d probably take you with me instead.”

Stiles chuckled and led him inside, flipping the lights open. He toed off his sneakers and put on some soft slippers, smiling when Derek followed his lead. He led him through the small hallway and into the living room.

“Just dump these here. I’ll sort them out later.” Stiles motioned to one of the side tables. After Derek placed everything down, Stiles waved a hand.

“So, yeah, this is my place.”

Stiles apartment was actually fairly large given that he lived on his own. It was also fairly cheap, since his landlord wasn’t money-hungry and liked Stiles enough to give him a student discount. The front door opened to a very large room. The living room was set up in the middle, with a threadbare couch donated by Lydia, an armchair, a TV and a DVD setup. There were two bookshelves by the wall near the windows, which held both books and DVDs and picture frames. To the right was the open kitchen-slash-dining room, which was fully furnished thanks to Robbie’s nitpicking and the occasional times he felt the need to cook for Stiles. There were two doors that led to the bathroom and Stiles’ room.

Stiles watched as Derek looked at everything, eyes focused and taking in every detail. When Derek’s eyes fell towards the left side of the room, Stiles fidgeted.

“With the living room and the kitchen over here, that part’s my studio.”

Set up at the far wall were floor-to-ceiling shelves and drawers containing all of Stiles’ art materials; containers of every type of paint in every color, boxes and drawers of various writing implements, reams and rolls of different types of paper and cloth, candles, threads, beads, glitters, and a few other odds and ends he used for his works. The left-hand wall served to display most of his works, upon which were hung or pasted paintings, drawings, collages, etc. with a bookcase and an easel set up by it. A long table lined the other wall with a desk chair.

Stiles could see Derek’s eyes widening, slowly stepping towards the studio.

“This is amazing,” he breathed out. “Wow.”

Derek looked at him, a large smile on his face and his expression so mystified that Stiles couldn’t help flushing and looking down at his slippers.

“I-I’m glad you think so. It’s just my workplace.”

When Stiles looked up, Derek was in front of him. He reached over, wrapping his arms around Stiles’ waist.

“I love it,” Derek said, pressing a soft kiss to his temple. “It’s very… you.”

Stiles smiled, wrapping an arm around Derek’s shoulder and leaning up to give him a light kiss on the mouth. Everyone who had seen his place said that exact thing, but not the way Derek did, as if it was an honor and a privilege to see who Stiles was.

“Thank you,” Stiles said. “You can take a look if you want. I’ll get dinner started and no, Derek, I’m cooking and you’re not allowed to help. Like I’m totally putting an invisible line in front of the kitchen which you are not allowed to cross. It’ll take an hour tops, nothing I can’t handle on my own.”

Derek chuckled. “Ok then.” He looked back at the studio. “You’re not the type of artist who’ll freak out if I touch something right?”

“Nope, but I am the type of artist who will freak out if you ruin anything,” Stiles said, laughing. “But you’ve got doctor hands, so I know you’ll be gentle. And I trust you.”

Derek looked so happy with that and Stiles waved him off, pushing him towards the direction of the studio before he traipsed off to the kitchen.

Making garlic chicken and potatoes with a side salad was pretty easy. It was one of Robbie’s go-to dishes when he was too tired to make his more flamboyant dishes. Unlike Stiles, Robbie still made tons of side dishes to add to it.

Stiles was lucky he was used to making it or else he would have burned his apartment down because he spent more than half the time watching Derek across the room.

Derek was very careful. He never touched more than was necessary, preferring to run his fingers lightly over everything, from the art materials to the books. He took a long time staring at the bookshelves. He never took one out though, and moved on to the art materials, reading the labels, such as ‘more glitters’ and ‘DO NOT TOUCH, SCOTT!’ and the ‘do not run with this (scissors) cabinet’.

Derek was so mesmerized by what he was doing that he snapped out of it only after the smell of chicken was in the air. He then noticed that Stiles was starting to set up the small round dining table.

“I can do that,” Derek said. “You should have told me.”

“Invisible line!” Stiles held up a hand and used his foot to make a line in front of him. “You can’t come in unless I say so.”

Derek huffed at that, shaking his head fondly.

There was a shrill ring and Stiles pouted. He and Derek turned to the cellphone merrily ringing on the coffee table in the living room. Derek grinned at him.

“Fine!” Stiles said. “You can set the table.”

Derek seemed overly happy at that, brushing the back of Stiles’ hand lightly with his own as he made his way into the kitchen. Stiles grabbed his cellphone.

***Incoming call: Princess Jill***

“What’s up, princess?” Stiles said in greeting.

 _“Don’t call me that.”_ Jill huffed angrily. _“Just wanted to tell you that Dad’s pulling a double shift… again. Ben’s doing homework. I need you to convince Dad to let me play at Jackson’s birthday party. And Robbie’s been on the phone with someone for about half an hour now.”_

Stiles almost blew up. “Excuse me?!”

_“Yeah. I know. I think he has a girlfriend now. Finally.”_

Stiles frowned. “That is not what I was talking about and you know it, Jillian. Why the hell are you going to Jackson’s party? Why are you even going _to play_ at his party? And I am assuming that by play you mean with an instrument and not play meaning… things I do not even want to consider!”

There was a murmur which Stiles didn’t catch.

“What’s that?”

Jill sighed. _“Maybe a bit of both?”_

“JILLIAN STILINSKI!”

 _“Hear me out, please?”_ Jill started talking fast. _“There’s this band Jackson asked to play a few numbers at his party, the Direct Liners, and their drummer isn’t available next month. They invited me to sub for them. It’s just a few numbers and I already said that I won’t be practicing past ten at night. It’s just a fun gig, and I already thought about it and I said yes.”_

Stiles was frowning more and more. He knew the Direct Liners. They’re five in the band, three college students and two high school seniors. Three of them were females, the drummer included. Stiles knew the members and they weren’t half-bad people.

But no, just no.

Stiles glanced towards the kitchen to see Derek already removing the baking dish from the oven and transferring the chicken to the cutting board to slice.

Stiles turned back to Jill. “First of all, what makes you even think you can get into that party?”

Jill sounded affronted. _“You’re going to be there! And so is Robbie! And Jackson will let me come!”_

“No, he won’t,” Stiles scoffed. Or else risk the anger of Robbie and their Dad.

Stiles threw his glasses on the coffee table and pinched the bridge of his nose as he and his sister argued back and forth. He walked over to Derek, who had already served them platefuls of food and was grabbing glasses from the high cabinet. Stiles couldn’t resist reaching out to touch his back. Derek turned to him with a smile that melted into concern at Stiles’ face.

“Ok, just…” Stiles sighed. “Talk to Robbie and tell him to call me later. Love you and make sure you and Ben eat your vegetables.”

Stiles ended the call.

“Everything ok?” Derek asked.

Stiles nodded. “Just Jill wanting to go to Jackson’s birthday party next month.” He sat down on the table, pushing Derek into the other one.

“And you aren’t letting her, right?” Derek asked, scooting closer to Stiles. “I get that she’s a Sheriff’s kid, but she’s seventeen. Isn’t it her moral imperative to go to parties?”

Stiles couldn’t help laughing at that, nudging Derek with his shoulder. “It’s not that. Jackson’s birthday party is like homecoming, prom, and music awards after party rolled into one. It’s usually a hell of a lot crazier than any other party he’s thrown, especially with all the college kids and the high school seniors invited.”

He grinned wryly at Derek. “Would you believe most seniors consider it a rite of passage to college life to attend a Whittemore party? Or a Martin party?”

Derek let out a low whistle. “That’s pretty notorious.”

“It’s ridiculously fun, though, despite all the crazy things that happen,” Stiles admitted. “And I have the benefit of being Jackson’s frenemy, Lydia’s friend, and being the Sheriff’s kid that most of the crazy shit I’ve done isn’t made a big deal of or else I’d go out and tell everybody’s mother what their kids have done.” He cackled evilly.

Derek raised an eyebrow in interest. “Like what? What have you gotten into?”

Stiles scoffed. “Like I’ll tell you,” he teased. “And thanks for this, by the way.” He waved at the meal Derek set up in his absence.

Derek chuckled. “I should be the one thanking you. It smells great.”

“Wait until you get a taste,” Stiles said, laughing. “It’s one of the few recipes I can make almost as well as Robbie.” At Derek’s joking gasp, he laughed, “I know! Shocking!”

They dug in, though Stiles let Derek take the first bite and watched him. Derek’s face turned from pleased to utterly delighted.

“This is really good,” he said, licking his lips.

“Aww, shucks. Do go on,” Stiles said, laughing. He took a bite.

They ate in silence for a while, Derek obviously enjoying the meal. Stiles was having more fun watching Derek. He half-expected Derek to be clinical while eating, but he ate everything up heartily, licking his lips and making delighted moans.

“Stop watching me and eat,” Derek said, wiping his mouth on a napkin. He smirked knowingly.

Stiles flushed a little, looking away. He speared a potato and popped it into his mouth.

Conversation flowed smoothly, just regular chit-chat about movies and baseball games and some of the high school antics they’ve done, though Stiles was still pretty tight-lipped about all the shit he and Scott had gotten into during parties. Stiles told Derek about his family though he wasn’t quite ready to talk about his late mother yet, which Derek didn’t comment on. And when Derek shared some stories about his family, Stiles absorbed and took every word to heart.

“Laura’s a lawyer and my uncle Peter is chairman of an automobile distribution company,” Derek said, looking at his near-empty plate with a fond smile on his face. He chuckled as Stiles let out an impressed whistle. “They have demanding jobs but they’ve always made time for all the holidays and the birthdays and any vacation plans. It helps that they’re good at their jobs to demand that much free time.”

Stiles tilted his head. “Not that I mean anything, but they didn’t come when you and Isaac and Erica moved to town, right?” If they did, he would have heard from their local gossips.

Derek didn’t look offended. “Oh, that was more of our choice. It was more efficient for the three of us to move into our house and get everything set up. Laura and Peter came to check out the town before we moved here and they have visited once already, though we mostly just stayed at home. They’re letting us three get used to being here and getting comfortable with everyone in town before they come here because, as Isaac would say, the two of them are a bit too flashy and they might scare the people.”

Stiles chuckled. “I’d like to see that.”

Derek smiled. “They really are flashy, but I’m sure you’d like Laura. She and Fran are a lot alike.”

“I would love to meet her and your uncle,” Stiles said, smiling. “If they won’t mind meeting my very nosey and very hyper family.”

Derek’s smile was absolutely blinding, overjoyed at the idea of their families meeting.

“Oh, yeah!” Stiles perked up, standing up before he could throw himself at Derek. “Time for brownies!”

They placed everything in the sink and then Stiles grabbed the small box of brownies from the fridge. They settled at the living room, though Derek stood up to look at the studio some more as Stiles watched him. Derek approached the bookshelves again, one hand trailing along the spine of some of the books.

“May I ask what these are?” Derek asked, referring to the colored ones that took about two full shelves. The spines were unmarked except for the numbers at the bottom.

Stiles walked up to him, hooking his chin over Derek’s shoulder and using his free hand to join Derek’s, fingers chasing each other across the shelf.

“There are all the sketchbooks I’ve had through the years. All of them numbered and arranged. The red ones are from elementary, the orange from middle school, all the yellows are from high school, and,” their fingers stopped at the end, “These green ones are from college until now.”

Derek took Stiles’ hand, the other hand lifting the dessert to his mouth. He looked at the sketchbooks contemplatively as he chewed.

This was the part where most people asked Stiles if he could show them his works. The hard part there was that Stiles’ answer was almost always no. He only let select people see his works, a group that Derek was still not a part of, and Stiles always had it hard saying no to people especially when most of them get offended.

Derek turned to him. “To be honest, I’m pretty amazed at the level of organization here.”

Stiles laughed, both in surprise and in relief.

“My mom gave me my first sketchbook,” Stiles said, pointing to a red spine with a number 3 on it. “Number one and number two are just blank ones where mom and I pasted the other stuff I’ve doodled on. She told me that I should keep everything filed away because one day there would be something from one of my old stuff that I’d want to go back to, and also to see how well I improved through the years.”

Derek hummed, nodding, as Stiles gobbled up the rest of his dessert.

“What are your usual subjects?” he asked.

“Anything, really,” Stiles said. “I’ve done backgrounds and animals and people. I’ve gotten into practically everything through the years. I like drawing people best though and cartoons.”

“I noticed,” Derek said, motioning to some of the woks displayed on the wall. More than half were of people or characters. Derek’s head tilted down.

Stiles looked and Derek was looking at _that_ painting, tucked at the corner of the bookshelves.

“That one is unfinished,” he said softly, shaking his head. “I’ve… It’s something I… It’s nothing.”

Derek looked at him and nodded once, simply.

“Wait a sec. I’ll show you something.”

Stiles let go of Derek for a moment and walked into his room, grabbing the large drawing on his desk. When he walked back into the living room, Derek was sitting on the couch, finishing up his brownie.

Stiles sat down beside him and showed him the pastel drawing he was making of the Stilinskis around the campfire.

“My most recent personal work. Just finished it this morning.”

Derek took it, eyes roving across the drawing. All six of them were drawn gathered around the campfire. Ben was at the very middle of the drawing, wide-eyed and young and laughing. Their father was beside him, arm slung around Robbie, who was holding his hands out to the fire. Fran was at Ben’s other side, head thrown back and long hair flying. Jill and Stiles had their arms around each other beside her with Jill half-lying across Stiles’ lap. The colors on the outside were muted and mostly shadows, like the audience was watching them at night, but there was brightness and warmth radiating from the fire at the middle, casting everyone into a glow.

“It’s beautiful,” Derek said, hand hovering just above the page but not touching.

“Thank you,” Stiles said. “I don’t… I don’t always show these works to people, the… the personal stuff.”

Derek looked at him then, but Stiles kept his gaze on his work, slowly taking it and standing up to place it on his studio table. When he turned, Derek was still seated, looking at him.

“I’m honored.”

It was barely a murmur, but Stiles heard it and he didn’t hesitate to sit beside Derek and throw his arms around him. Derek wrapped his arms around Stiles’ shoulders, bringing their faces closer, and kissing him softly.

Kissing Derek was something surprising, not just because it still kind of stunned Stiles to _feel_ that Derek wanted him the way he did, but also because of the way Derek expressed everything through his mouth. Right now Derek’s kiss was simple, undemanding, and warm. It was full of gratitude at Stiles, _for_ Stiles, and when he opened his mouth, the taste of chocolate brownies and chicken made Stiles giggle. Derek smiled against his mouth before trailing his lips across Stiles’ jaw. Stiles’ breath caught in his throat at Derek’s gentle nips and smooth kisses, and the ticklish rasp of the stubble against his face.

Stiles reached up, weaving his fingers through Derek’s hair, and tilted his head back gently. He pressed his mouth to Derek’s, licking the other man’s lips before kissing his forehead, nose, cheeks, and his chin. Stiles dipped lower, lips pressed against the hair under Derek’s chin, sucking a path down to his neck until he’s pressing his face against Derek’s collarbone. A low groan resounded through Derek’s throat and rumbled into Stiles and wasn’t _that_ the best feeling in the world.

“Stiles,” Derek said in a whisper, hands coming up to Stiles’ cheeks and pressing their faces closer.

“Dammit, Derek,” Stiles whispered back, as Derek nipped at his bottom lip. “I am so into you.”

“Ditto.” Derek chuckled, leaning back to look at Stiles. Stiles just knew his lips were swollen and his face was starting to get red from stubble burn, but Derek looked at him with so much feeling that it made Stiles’ toes curl.

“Next date it’ll be my turn to pick,” Derek said, smirked.

Stiles laughed, dropping a quick kiss to his lips. “Ok, then, handsome. Surprise me.”

* * *

 ** _From:_** _Sheriff Dad_  
**_Message:_** _When were you planning on telling me that you were dating Dr. Hale? And don’t deny it._

 ** _From:_** _Stiles_  
**_Message:_** _i’m in class! talk l8r!_

 ** _From:_** _Stiles_  
**_Message:_** _who told u?_

 ** _From:_** _Sheriff Dad_  
**_Message:_** _Got it from Gia, Mrs. Mayer’s housekeeper. Saw her at the grocery. And I see you’re not denying it._

 ** _From:_** _Stiles_  
**_Message:_** _y r u listening to old ladies gossiping?!_

 ** _From:_** _Sheriff Dad_  
_**Message:**_ _You still didn’t deny it._

* * *

 ** _From:_** _Derek_  
**_Message:_** _Good morning. I miss you already. And I don’t mind and I swear I am not mad. But how did your Dad get my number?_

 ** _From:_** _Stiles_  
**Message:** _I AM SO SORRY!!!!!!! HE DIDN’T THREATEN 2 SHOOT U, DID HE?!!!!_  
_p.s. gud am! i miss you too. i’ll call you later after class_

 ** _From:_** _Stiles_  
**_Message:_** _Ur not replying! DID HE?_

 ** _From:_** _Stiles_  
**_Message:_** _DEREK?!_

 ** _From:_** _Derek_  
**_Message:_** _He kinda did. I didn’t mind. Do not freak out in class. And stop texting._

* * *

 ** _From:_** _Shortie Fran_  
**_Message:_** _Just got a text from Dad! He’s asking me how long you’ve been dating Derek!!!! =)))))))))_

 ** _From:_** _Scottie Dog_  
**_Message:_** _dude! ur dad just texted me asking about u n Derek!! D fuck?!!_

 ** _From:_** _King Rob_  
**_Message:_** _bro. are you and Derek going steady already? dad’s texting me in the middle of classes._

* * *

 ** _From:_** _Stiles_  
**_Message:_** _stop threatening Derek!!_

 ** _From:_** _Stiles_  
**_Message:_** _and stop texting everybody!!_

 ** _From:_** _Dad_  
**_Message:_** _I did not threaten Derek. Much._

 ** _From:_** _Stiles_  
**_Message:_** _DAAAAAD!!!!!!!!_

 ** _From:_** _Dad_  
**_Message:_** _You have class. Stop texting._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Orange blossoms mean good fortune, marriage and fertility, while pink camellias mean longing. And I did not expect to write three kisses in one chapter. I suck a little at describing feelings.
> 
> As always, constructive concrits are loved. Thank you very much.


	4. Chapter Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You and Isaac and Erica are coming to Mama’s Diner after the play, right?” Stiles asked.
> 
> Derek gave him a wry grin. “We’ve been invited by you, Ben, the Sheriff, a very insistent Mrs. McCall, all the nurses and doctors at the hospital, my patients, my neighbors, the lovely girl behind the cashier I always see at the grocery, the deputies around town, and pretty much every other person I meet. That’s a lot of expectations on a couple of newcomers.”
> 
> Stiles laughed. “I can’t wait to see you guys. It’s gonna be wild.”
> 
> \---
> 
> “Oh, come on,” Stiles tugged at Derek’s hand until he let Stiles have them. Stiles spread their arms out ala Titanic, except for the ship coming in the form of the Camaro. “As absolutely insane as Med school was, I know even young hopeful would-be-doctors know how to get down.”
> 
> Derek chuckled. “Some do. Not everyone. Not me.”
> 
> “Aww…” Stiles said, bringing down their arms. He settled back into Derek’s arms.
> 
> Derek leaned over, nosing along Stiles’ cheek. Stiles could feel the smile across his lips. “But I do have a very nice singing voice.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THANK YOU SO VERY MUCH to everybody for the kudos, comments, and reads.
> 
> And also thank you to those who message me over on Tumblr. I'd follow you back if I could, but my secondary blog is pretty much my primary blog so all the follows and likes go all screwy. Still, thank you. And I do reply to messages so keep 'em coming.

Stiles was sure that raising five children, all of whom acted like manic squirrels on a good day, was the reason his father was always cool as cucumber, taking everything in stride, accepting the things most parents wouldn’t, but also being sneaky and devious enough to learn how to one up his children. Or sometimes torture them.

His dad only brought up the topic of Derek once. He did so just after dinner, when Ben and Jill were already in the living room and Robbie, who was grabbing the bowls and plates, was the only one to hear.

“So,” their Dad started, as casual as could be as he wiped his face with a napkin. “About the fact that you’re dating Derek Hale…”

The macaroni Stiles just popped into his mouth went down the wrong pipe. If Robbie hadn’t slid the glass of water towards him, he would have choked.

“I know I spend a lot of money on art supplies,” Stiles hacked out, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, still coughing. “But I didn’t think you’d try to kill your middle child, oh father of mine.”

John barely batted an eyelash. He merely chewed on his potato salad thoughtfully. “So?”

Stiles glared at Robbie, who was chuckling, the unsupportive jerk. “Dad, why are you even hanging out with Mrs. Duchess and her housekeeper? And why would you even believe Mrs. Duchess?”

“She has her own army of gossiping ladies,” Robbie said, handing their Dad a cup of coffee. “And everyone knows that she’s always right.”

“I have half a mind to use her network as official police informants.” John chuckled. “So, she’s right this time, I am assuming?” His Dad gave him the full-on power of his inquisitive glare.

Stiles bit his lip and nodded.

Their Dad gave a low murmur, nodding. He grabbed his cup, patting Robbie on the shoulder in thanks before cuffing Stiles lightly on the back of the head.

“That wasn’t so hard, was it?” John rolled his eyes. “Having a doctor for a son-in-law isn’t that bad. I guess I can live with it.”

Stiles sputtered. “Dad! We’re not… It’s not…”

John ignored him. “Not that I know how many dates you two have been on, but I trust you’ll follow the tenth date rule, Stiles. Fran’s bringing her boyfriend over for Ben’s play for their tenth. I expect Derek’s turn as well.”

Stiles simply nodded. The tenth date rule was something his parents encouraged and all the kids took to heart. They were free to date anyone they wanted, but if it reached the tenth serious date, a meeting with the family was imperative. If they couldn’t handle being around the Stilinski family, then that was a point against their favor in continuing a serious relationship.

Their Dad seemed satisfied with that. He walked off.

“Oh.” He paused at the doorway. “And Derek’s a doctor so I’m not worried, but I feel that as a father I have to say this.”

He leveled a serious look at Stiles. “Use protection.”

Stiles fell off his seat to Robbie’s uproarious laughter.

* * *

Stiles was in the living room watching cartoons, a bowl of cereal on hand and feet propped up on the coffee table when Jill came bouncing down the stairs. She had just finished taking a bath, dressed in an oversized sweater and jean shorts.

“Morning, princess,” Stiles said, smiling as she yawned widely.

“Hey, bro,” Jill said. “Is Ben up?”

As if on cue, there was a loud thud from upstairs.

“Guess he is,” Stiles said, chuckling. “What time do you have to be at school?”

“I volunteered to help set up,” Jill said. “Plus I’m practicing with the school band and Mr. Sinclair wanted to hear me practice my solo one more time.”

Stiles nodded as Jill walked off to the kitchen to get her cereal.

Later tonight was the day Beacon Hills Elementary School was finally showcasing their anticipated theatre play. Classes at the high school and elementary levels were postponed for the day as everyone prepared for the play, the production numbers, and the intermission numbers. Jill was playing with the school band for some of the live musical accompaniment and was also chosen to perform a solo piano piece while Ben was part of the main cast.

Jill was already on the couch beside Stiles with her own bowl of cereal and wrestling Stiles for the remote, when Ben came running down the stairs, his curly hair still wet. His cheeks were flushed with excitement. He crashed down on Stiles.

“Oof! Hey there.” Stiles grinned, pushing the wet curls away from Ben's forehead. “You excited for the big day?”

Ben’s grin was so wide it almost split his face. He nodded, obviously too ecstatic to speak. Stiles laughed, nudging him by the shoulder.

“Go on. Get some cereal, kiddo. I’m taking you and Jill to school in ten. Gotta make sure you guys aren’t late to your big day.”

About twenty-five minutes later, Stiles’ jeep was pulling up at the school and there was an excited buzz in the air from everybody. There was a big tarpaulin out front advertising the play and Ben was excitedly pointing out his picture. Stiles took a picture of it with his camera phone and sent it to Fran, Robbie, their Dad, Scott, Mrs. McCall, and Derek.

 _ **From:** Shortie Fran_  
_**Message:** tell Benny-boo and Jill that Richard and I will be there @ 5pm. See you l8r!_

 _ **From:** Sheriff Dad_  
_**Message:** Make sure Ben and Jill didn’t forget their costumes._

Stiles relayed the messages to his younger siblings. Fran and her boyfriend Richard will be driving in and were only staying overnight, as both of them were unable to time off from their jobs.

 _ **From:** Derek_  
_**Message:** Good luck to Ben and Jill! See you guys later :)_

As for the Hales, this was the first town event they were taking part in. Most of the folks were supportive of their local plays so half the town was likely to show up. This was a good time to see and get to know everyone. Plus, Mama’s Diner downtown usually opened their doors and set out tables all along their parking lot where the hungry townsfolk and the play’s actors and actresses can drop by for dinner. The whole shebang usually ended up like one big town party.

“Derek says good luck to you both,” Stiles said, handing Ben his backpack.

Ben bounced up and down on his heels. “Is he gonna sit with us?”

Jill grinned knowingly at that question. Ben had warmed up ridiculously fast to the idea of Stiles dating Derek.

“Probably not, kiddo,” Stiles said. “Reserved seats are for family only and the only reason we got four instead of the usual three allotted seats is because everyone knows there are a lot of us.”

“Who’s gonna take the seats?” Ben asked.

“Dad, Robbie, Fran, and Richard,” Stiles said. “Scott and I are coming early to get good seats for the gang including the Hales, so I’ll still see you.”

Ben bit his lip at that, but then nodded. “So long as you get to see!”

Stiles waved a hand in the air as Jill and Ben ran off, waving over their shoulders.

* * *

 _ **From:** Derek_  
_**Message:** I’ll be there in five._

Stiles tucked his phone in his pocket, resisting the urge to attack the basket of curly fries with its wonderful aroma. He glared at it.

Although they were already going to see each other tonight at the play, he and Derek agreed to meet up for lunch at Poxies, a small, relatively unknown corner restaurant between the college and the hospital. There was a corner booth near the back where Stiles sometimes holed up when he wasn’t in the mood to eat with people. It was a bit way off that Stiles had to text Derek specific instructions to get there.

They had gone on a few small dates here and there ever since that dinner at Stiles’ apartment. Derek had surprised him with tickets to an improv show at a small theatre an hour’s drive from town. It was a cozy affair, with a lot of people, and free drinks for the audience. Stiles’s stomach had never hurt so much and he had the pleasure of hearing Derek’s laughter throughout the show.

For Stiles’ turn, he was a bit too tired from university classes to think of much, but Derek didn’t mind playing board games and watching reruns on TV and tossing M&Ms at one another that they had to catch with their mouths. They usually stayed at Stiles’ apartment or go out to a lunch or dinner, a majority of which was out of town or at some place no one could recognize them both.

It wasn’t like he and Derek were hiding. They both agreed it was a bit too much that so many people were watching them. It wasn’t just the Stilinskis, but even their friends, the Sheriff’s deputies, and most of the townspeople who’ve known Stiles his whole life. Derek mentioned, or more like slipped up, that even Erica and Isaac were being a pest at home, but he had readily admitted that he had told Laura and Peter about Stiles.

“Sorry I’m late.”

Stiles didn’t look up, but he could hear Derek sliding across from him into the booth.

“It’s taunting me,” he said. “It’s taunting me with all the grease and fat I’m putting into my body.”

Stiles looked up to see Derek's amused face. Derek plucked a fry from the bucket and popped it into his mouth.

“If you don’t want it, I can take it off your hands.”

Stiles glared at Derek when he had the nerve to try and grab one more.

“No! Gimme! No touching my fries!” Stiles swiped the bucket from him and then leaned over to bite the fry right out of Derek’s fingers. If his tongue happened to swipe against Derek’s finger, that wasn’t his fault.

“You’re lucky that as a doctor, I always wash my hands,” Derek said, rolling his eyes.

Stiles rolled his eyes before perking up. “Oh, yeah.” He reached out for Derek’s hand and tugged the older man until Derek got with the program and leaned forward. Stiles gave him a quick peck on the mouth.

“Just one because I can’t forgive you for eating my fries.”

Derek scoffed, but a smile was playing on the corner of his lips. “What are you, ten years old?”

“Just turned eleven, you cradle snatcher,” Stiles replied cheekily, pushing Derek’s plate of burgers towards him.

Derek took a bite, humming at the delicious meal. “So, what’s got you in a mood?”

Stiles bit into his burger, not even caring about talking with his mouth full.

“Just some client of mine who’s reneging back on a commission he asked for because, and I quote perfectly from that snot-nosed brat, ‘I don’t want it anymore’. I mean, god!” He took a sip of his soda. “It took me about eight hours to set the wax just right and I had to find some way to repair it when I accidentally burned off part of the paper. The only good part about this is he paid half of the fee up front, which I spent part of on the materials.”

Derek gave him a sympathetic smile. “Did you finish it?”

“I can’t not finish it,” Stiles mumbled. “It’ll eat my soul. But I’m still thinking about reworking it and giving it to someone.”

Maybe you.

But Stiles didn’t say that. He bit his tongue.

One other thing for his slightly sour mood, was the surprising realization he had in the middle of class that ever since he and Derek started seeing each other, ever since that date at Franklin Elementary School, hell, ever since Stiles first surprised Derek back at the hospital, Stiles didn’t have the urge to draw Derek.

Not one. Not his rounded shoulders, or his ridiculously attractive face, or his strong jaw, or his gentle doctor’s hands.

And he realized that every single time he tried, he either just chose to draw something else, or whenever he did manage to push himself to draw something, it always came off ugly or disproportionate or just plain _wrong_.

He _literally_ could not draw Derek.

And it scared him because he didn’t know why.

There was a gentle hand on his, a rough thumb skating across his knuckles. He looked up at Derek, who simply smiled in understanding.

“Lost in your head?”

Stiles chuckled, pushing his glasses up his nose. “Yeah, sorry.”

Derek shook his head, gently squeezing Stiles’ hand once before letting go and continuing on with their meal and engaging in conversation.

Stiles liked how Derek’s hesitation about touching him had lessened a bit. Now he always held his hand or nudged his shoulder or placed his hand on Stiles’ back or arm. He still waited that split second against Stiles’ lips, as if Stiles would refuse, before closing in completely, and there were moments when Derek seemed like he had something to say but decided not to. Sometimes he seemed really surprised at something Stiles did, like a teasing squeeze to the thigh, or laughing at a joke, letting him pick out what movie to watch or what toppings he wanted on his pizza, or Stiles being affectionate when they were alone. It made Stiles wonder about his past relationships and he resolved to be more spontaneous, to shower Derek with nice things and show that Stiles cared.

(Like a surprise drive by the hospital just as Derek got off work just to kiss the doctor on the mouth before making a clean getaway. That one had Derek calling him two minutes after the sudden kiss-attack, asking Stiles to come back because he wasn’t able to reciprocate.)

It was a bit ridiculous how Stiles was completely into Derek.

But what made it better was how Derek was completely into Stiles too.

* * *

Stiles scratched his head. He was contemplating between spreading his stuff all over the seats, or just spread _himself_ all over the seats in order to prevent someone from taking them. He needed six seats for himself, the McCalls, and the Hales. Allison and her father had their own seats for one of Allison’s cousins who was in the school band. Danny and Boyd will be with their families for their siblings. Lydia and Jackson had seats up front, since both their parents were prominent donors to the school.

“Stilinski!”

“Sit down there,” was Stiles’ reply, pointing one finger at Jackson and another at the end of the row. He was mentally calculating the walking speed of Jackson versus the woman stalking down the aisle, sharp-eyed and also obviously looking for seats for her group. Luckily Jackson ducked around her.

Jackson raised an eyebrow. “Why?”

Stiles kept pointing. “I need to save six seats so park your ass over there.”

Jackson scoffed, but he did sit down. “You’re here early.” He waved a hand around. Collectively, there were only about ten people here, all of whom saving seats.

Stiles sat down, sighing. Finally. He turned to Jackson. “I should be asking you that. Where’s Lyds?”

“On the way,” Jackson said. “My Mom dragged me here early.” He jerked a thumb over his shoulder and Stiles looked up to see Mrs. Whittemore talking to the school principal.

“Well, thank god you’re here.”

Jackson pulled up the programme. “What’s Ben playing again?”

“Blue, the lead character’s best friend,” Stiles replied.

Ben would be onstage most of the time and even had his own monologue. Ben had always been incredibly interested in stage acting. There was a running bet between Robbie and Fran on whether or not Ben would end up going the acting route.

“By the way, the Hales are gonna sit with you?” Jackson asked. He tipped his head at Stiles with a knowing grin. “You finally gonna show off Dr. Hale?”

“You had a bet with Boyd again, didn’t you?” Stiles asked. “What is up with you betting on all aspects of my life?”

“It’s fun,” Jackson said. “You’re the most annoying person I know. Makes it all the better to make fun of you and make money out of it.”

“True, but you’re the one always on the losing end, right?” Stiles grinned at Jackson’s glare.

Erica had spilled the beans about how Boyd and Lydia were practically winning against Jackson at every turn. He didn’t know if he was ecstatic at Jackson’s misfortune or irritated at his lack of faith in Stiles’ ability to date someone.

Stiles’ phone rang and he pulled it out.

***Incoming call: Shortie Fran***

“Jackie, I gotta take this,” Stiles said, ignoring Jackson’s glare at the nickname. “Don’t let anyone take these seats or else I’ll sit at the back and if Ben finds out and cries, I’ll sic him on you.”

Jackson grumbled, but stayed put as Stiles trotted up the aisle.

The call took two minutes, just Fran telling him that she and Richard had just entered town and were going to change real quick at home. Then surprise of all surprises, a familiar Camaro was driving in the parking lot. Stiles grinned and waved a hand in the air. Isaac climbed out and waved back followed by Derek, both of them looking rather sharp in matching leather jackets.

“I have to say,” Stiles started as they came near. “The Hales make leather look good.”

Isaac grinned at that while Derek lowered his eyes, a flattered smile playing on his face.

“Hey, man,” Isaac said, giving Stiles a friendly hug and pat on the back. “Thought we’d get here early. Erica was telling us to get good seats.”

“I already got them for us. Jackson’s holding onto them. Where is she?” Stiles asked.

“Coming in with Boyd, but sitting with us,” Isaac said. “It’s all meet-the-boyfriend’s-family.”

Stiles bounced on his heels. “Aww, sweet. Jackson’s in there. Help him save the seats.”

“Will do,” Isaac said. “I’ll leave you two.” He gave Stiles a knowing look and walked off. “Yo, Jackson!”

Stiles shook his head. “Lahey needs to learn subtlety.”

Derek chuckled. “He wasn’t trying to be subtle.”

He stepped forward, just into Stiles’ personal bubble but far enough to appear friendly to any onlookers.

Stiles had to stop himself from leaning against him. “This is what you have to deal with at home?”

“Worse,” Derek said, looking up to see Jackson pointing Isaac down on the other end of the row. “Isaac’s more talkative at home, and Erica’s more forward.”

“Ouch,” Stiles said, laughing. “And you look very nice by the way.” He let his eyes travel across Derek’s leather jacket, the abs-hugging red shirt, the tight jeans which he just knew where incredibly tight at the rear, and the boots. His eyes traveled back up to see Derek’s pleased flush.

Derek swallowed and Stiles’ unabashedly watched his Adam’s apple, knew that Derek knew he’s watching.

“We had lunch together earlier but with you looking like that and… God, I want to kiss you.”

And wasn’t _that_ the best thing Stiles had heard all day.

Stiles shuffled a little in his sneakers and pushed his glasses up his nose in slight embarrassment. He’s in a long-sleeved dark blue polo shirt, sleeves rolled up to his forearms and dark jeans. He’s probably less impressive-looking compared to Derek, but Derek liked it and that’s what mattered.

* * *

Stiles hadn’t had much time to talk to Derek after that as they had to go around and make nice to the students, parents, and other familiar faces that came in, and half an hour later, the auditorium was half-full and there was a loud buzz in the air.

Stiles came in from a quick visit backstage to see Ben and his gaze zeroed in a few rows from the front where Fran was seated accompanied by their Dad and a handsome male, probably the boyfriend, Richard. A few rows back, he could see Jackson standing in the aisle and talking to Derek. Scott and Danny were already there and talking to Isaac. He walked towards his Dad and Fran first.

“Stiles!” Fran looked beautiful as ever with her long hair tied in a long braid and dressed in tight jeans and a blue blouse cut low enough to reveal cleavage. She wrapped him up in her arms and Stiles hugged her tightly.

“Oh my god! I am so excited! How’s Ben? He doesn’t know Richard and I have come in yet.”

“Hey, son,” John said, clapping him on the shoulder. “Is Ben ok? Think we can step in backstage for a bit?”

Stiles nodded. “Sure thing. I don’t think Mr. Sinclair would mind and Ben really wants to see you two.”

Fran tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear and bounced on her heels. “Yes! Come on, Daddy! Rich, honey, I’ll introduce you to Ben.”

His Dad ruffled Stiles’ hair affectionately as he and Fran walked off backstage.

There was a cough, and the handsome man was standing up. He held a hand to Stiles. He was tall, probably even taller than Robbie - which was funny considering how short Fran was - and was in a crisp white polo and slacks. He had light blue eyes and cropped blonde hair. Fran said he was English.

“I thought it would be preferable to introduce myself to you first. You must be Stiles,” he said and Stiles noted the accent. Yep, Fran nabbed herself a Brit. “I’m Richard Griffiths, Francine’s boyfriend.”

“Oh, yeah, hi. Fran mentioned you. It’s nice to meet you.” Stiles reached over, pushing his glasses higher up his nose.

Daaaaamn. The man was _hot_. Good job, Fran, and he called her by her full name. None of her ex-boyfriends ever did that.

“You too,” Richard smiled and Stiles couldn’t help smiling back. He had a nice smile, one of Fran’s weaknesses. “I hope your brother does well.”

Stiles nodded. “Thanks.”

Richard gave one last smile before jogging off backstage after Fran and their Dad.

“Stiles!”

Stiles looked up and Robbie was there, pausing to say hi to Stiles’ friends, before walking up to them.

“Got here just in time. How’s Ben. Is he ok? Nervous? Excited?” Robbie asked.

“He’s good. Dad and Fran are backstage with him and so’s Richard.”

Robbie made a face at that last part. He was always aloof and a bit of a jerk towards Fran’s boyfriends, pretty much because he thought every man in the world was unworthy of his big sister.

“Did you get the seats?” Robbie asked instead.

“Yup. You, Dad, Fran, and Richard got these ones. I sit back there with everybody else.” Stiles pointed to the seats at the back.

Robbie nodded. “I’ll go find Ben. Later.”

Stiles nodded and went to his friends. When he was close enough, Danny grabbed his arm and tugged him hard enough to send him sprawling across Scott’s lap.

“Fran’s boyfriend,” Danny said, eyes wide and almost drooling. “Damn and I mean, daaaamn.”

“I know,” Stiles said, grinning. He loved being able to admire the occasional gorgeous men with Danny.

“What’s he do?” Scott asked, prodding Stiles to sit at a different seat. “And you’re heavy, dude. Get off.” Stiles just draped himself more over Scott.

“Who is he?” Isaac asked.

“Richard Griffiths, Fran’s bloke,” Stiles said, trying to put an accent in his voice. Scott laughed. “He’s a businessman or something like that.”

“Are you sure he’s not a model?” Danny asked.

“Let’s hope this one lasts against all the shit Robbie’s gonna throw at him,” Scott said, snickering.

Stiles stood up and scrambled over the ogling Danny, and Scott telling Isaac about the way Robbie acted towards Fran’s boyfriends. He walked over to Derek.

“Where’s Jackson?” Stiles asked.

“Went to see Lydia,” Derek said. “How’s Ben and Jill backstage?”

“They’re good, nervous and excited,” Stiles said. He looked back. Danny, Isaac and Scott were still joking around. He turned to Derek, pleased to see the other male was none-too-subtly checking him out. “Now that we’ve made nice with all the folks, I am now in the mood for a soda. Wanna come with?”

Derek nodded immediately.

“We’re gonna go get some drinks,” Stiles said to Scott, Danny, and Isaac. “If anybody wants anything, you gotta fork over the money.”

“You owe me ten bucks, dude,” Scott shot back, grinning.

“You’ll get me one because I am awesome,” Danny said, giving him a toothy smile.

“And Derek will get me one,” Isaac said, grinning widely at his cousin. “Because Derek is awesome.”

“You guys are stingy,” Stiles said, scoffing. “Just for that we’re not bringing anything back.” Even though he knew he probably would. He led Derek down the aisle.

“Derek,” Isaac called out. “Soda? Please?” He shot a puppy dog look at Derek and Stiles could swear Derek _melted_.

Derek opened his mouth. “What do you–”

“No!” Stiles grabbed Derek’s forearm. “Resist the look! Resist the eyes! Don’t give in! It will eat your soul!”

“Pleeeease, Derek?” Isaac turned it up full wattage, enough that even Stiles was caving in.

Stiles dragged Derek off.

“Oh sure, just go on with Stiles and leave me thirsty,” Isaac called out. He cackled, and Danny and Scott burst out laughing.

“That kid is evil,” Stiles muttered as he and Derek walked down the hall. “And really, really lacking in subtlety.”

Derek was amused. “Try resisting that look when you’re at the grocery store and he’s begging for tubs of ice cream.” Stiles laughed.

Stiles led Derek to the vending machine at the side of the school. No one was allowed on the field right now so it was near deserted, apart from the school gardener who was all the way at the other side of the field tending to the gardens. It was peaceful.

Stiles and Derek got themselves some sodas and sat down on the bench by the wall.

“Jackson told me a bit about Ben and his acting,” Derek said, taking a gulp of his drink. “He said it started about two years ago.”

“Ben started getting into theater after mom died,” Stiles said, smiling when Derek took his hand gently. He laced their fingers together. “We had our own ways of coping. Fran threw herself into her work, Jill with music, Robbie with cooking, and Dad with work. Acting was Ben’s.”

“And you?” Derek asked. There was a frown on his face and Stiles was thankful there wasn’t anybody around. He reached up with his other hand to rub his thumb at the corner of his lip until Derek stopped.

“I had my art, and Scott, and a couple of good friends,” Stiles said. It was both a lie and not. “It was surprising actually. Ben was the first one to get back on his feet after Mom died. Listening to him practice, taking him to fittings, watching his plays, it snapped the rest of us out of the funk.”

Derek chuckled. “Ben’s something special. He’s a good boy.”

Stiles looked at Derek, smiling at the sincerity in his face. “Thanks.”

They sat there in silence for a moment, looking around at the field. The school gardener was now hosing down the flowers.

“I’ve always liked school,” Derek said softly. “Not Med school. I am never doing that shit again.” Stiles laughed at that. “High school was quiet, but I liked it.”

“Quiet?” Stiles asked.

Derek didn’t always talk about his life. He’s told Stiles a number of personal things, like about Laura and Peter, and the things he liked and disliked, but not much about his life story. And what little he said, Stiles was always determined to absorb every word of.

Derek gave him a wry grin. “I wasn’t the nicest kid back in high school, a lot rougher, quieter, didn’t much like the company of most people. I considered most people to be idiots, to be honest.”

Stiles chuckled. “A regular bad boy, eh?”

“Pretty much, complete with the leather.” He tugged at his own leather jacket.

Stiles raised an eyebrow teasingly and let out a wolf whistle that had two spots of red blooming on Derek’s cheeks.

“Bet you had to beat away all those admirers with a stick.”

“My less-than-stellar personality kept them away.” Derek grinned.

Stiles shrugged. “Ah, well then. Their loss. It’s all worked out in my favor then, right?” He winked.

“Yes it has.” Derek’s voice was gentle and very fond.

“I love school,” Stiles said. “Even with all the homework and the teachers and stuff. I’ve never felt the same way as most students. I mean, I complain and shit, but not really.”

“You’d be among the few,” Derek said. “And the crazy.”

Stiles chuckled. “I guess it’s because there are five of us siblings and in between all the plays, recitals, parties, graduations, etcetera, that’s a hell of a lot of time to spend in school.”

“It’s nice though,” Derek said, tossing the can of soda into a waste basket. It went in smoothly.

“What is?”

“That you and your family are so close,” Derek said. “I’ve seen my fair share of patients with large families, and they aren’t like yours.”

“Thank goodness for that,” Stiles said, giving him a joking gasp. “If all families were like ours, everyone would go crazy! Imagine having a dozen of me running around? Pure terror. Hide the women and children!”

Derek laughed loudly. “I admit. That would be crazy. I prefer having just one of you all to myself.” His eyes were gentle as he smiled at Stiles.

Stiles couldn’t help the sudden warmth in his chest. He groaned. “You can’t say stuff like that, Derek.”

“Why not?” Derek’s hand came up to his back, stroking up and down slowly. “It’s true.”

“Because I won’t be able to resist kissing you if you do.”

Derek chuckled, a low and rumbly one as he leaned towards Stiles. “That’s not a very good reason. And there’s nobody around.”

Stiles couldn’t resist reaching up to stroke Derek’s face, delighting in the way it made Derek smile.

“I can’t kiss you because you’ll end up giving me beard burn and I can’t have an auditorium full of family, friends, and neighbors seeing that.” He pressed a kiss to the tip of Derek’s nose to lessen the blow. He whispered in his ear. “However much I really, really want to. Plus, we have to get back.”

Stiles stood up and stretched, raising his arms in the air and rolling his shoulders. He made to straighten his polo shirt when Derek was suddenly holding him by the waist and pulling him in.

“Derek?”

Derek wrapped both arms around Stiles’ waist and propped his chin on his chest. Stiles couldn’t help the way his breath hitched in his throat. Derek was warm along his front and his eyes were oh so dark.

“I can still kiss you,” Derek said, voice low. “But it doesn’t have to be your mouth.”

Stiles was left speechless when Derek used one hand to lift the edge of his shirt. Without breaking their gaze, Derek pressed the lightest of kisses against his exposed hip, so light it was barely a brush of lips. Stiles’ heart stuttered.

“Derek.” His voice was low.

Derek pressed another gentle kiss to his other hip. He didn’t move away though and instead brushed his lips along the skin of Stiles’ belly, pausing only once to rest his lips on the dark hair below Stiles’ navel. Stiles couldn’t resist a soft moan.

As often as he and Derek had made out, they’d never actually done anything other than heavy necking, so much so that Stiles had a bottle of lotion on his bedside table for the constant beard burn. He wasn’t complaining though, both about the beard burns and the lack of sexy times. He and Derek weren't rushing anything.

That was what Stiles thought, but with the way Derek was now slowly kissing up his stomach, maybe they should have sped things up just a little bit faster.

Derek’s lips mouthed Stiles’ non-existent abs, his breath warm, and lips soft. Stiles fisted his hands on Derek’s shoulders, the leather creaking under his grip.

“God, your mouth,” Stiles moaned softly.

Derek chuckled and Stiles swatted him on the shoulder.

“Don’t laugh. Tickles,” Stiles murmured, chuckling himself.

Stiles was almost half-hard now. Derek was leaning up and his hold on Stiles’ waist was making him arch his back so Derek can access more of his skin. Derek was at the middle of his chest when he suddenly grinned. He pressed a kiss to the skin and then licked it.

“Fuck, Derek!” Stiles had to push on Derek’s shoulders gently. “Never took you for a tease.”

Derek chuckled, letting Stiles shirt drop. “Your fault.”

“I fail to see how it is _my_ fault,” Stiles said. He smoothed down his shirt and flinched. He pulled it up again to see the pale skin already blooming a little red.

Derek chuckled, low and throaty, and leaned back down to press a kiss to Stiles navel.

“Come on. We have to get back.” Derek stood up, rubbing his thumb along Stiles’ cheek gently.

“Tease,” Stiles muttered, but he couldn’t help the grin on his face or the way he kept smoothing down his shirt to feel the tingle along his stomach.

And just before they were in sight of people, Stiles leaned up and kissed the side of Derek’s neck.

He smiled back as Derek beamed.

* * *

_(The story was about three children, Red and Blue and Violet, who got lost in the woods a few days before Halloween. A Witch suddenly appeared before them and took Violet, taking her prisoner and locking her away to be her next meal. Red and Blue tried to save her, but it was all in vain. However, the Witch decided to make a deal with them. If Red and Blue brought her the Wolf that lived in the heart of the forest before the Halloween Hour, she would exchange it for Violet. If they don’t succeed, she will gobble Violet all up.)_

The play was written by a graduate student of Mr. Sinclair’s and was chosen because the theme of it fit the upcoming Halloween. Ben played Blue, dressed in a blue jumper and a large floppy hat, while Red was played by Dylan in a red jumper and with a baseball cap. Ben and Dylan were best friends, which helped a lot in their acting. Violet was played by Danny’s sister and the Witch was by a high school senior who volunteered for the role.

From his seat three rows behind his family, Stiles could see all the Stilinskis were at the edge of their seats for Ben. Fran and Richard were constantly taking pictures, thankfully without the flash on. Robbie was constantly checking to make sure the video camera was recording, while their Dad was quiet and mostly unmoving. Stiles couldn’t help mouthing along to some of Ben’s dialogues and sharing pleased smiles and nudges with Scott whenever Melissa would coo and reminisce about how Dylan and Ben reminded her so much of a young Scott and Stiles.

Stiles was seated in the middle with Scott and Melissa to his left and Erica, Isaac, and then Derek to his right. He took a peek at Derek at the end of the row, seeing that Derek was really engrossed with the play. They weren’t seated side by side as he would have liked, but there was no way he’d be able to keep his hands to himself if Derek was beside him. This was probably better.

The school band was playing well, and Stiles could see Jill to the side with her piano. He couldn’t wait for her solo piece later at intermission.

_(In order to save Violet, Red and Blue traveled throughout the forest in search of the Wolf. They faced Ghouls and Ghosts, Zombies, Mummies, Vampires, and Mermaids in their quest to the heart of the forest. They found out that all the creatures were possessed and the curse was lifted after they were defeated. Along the way, Blue got injured and Red almost gave up, but Blue determinedly convinced his friend to continue the journey to save Violet.)_

Overall, Stiles thought that the amount of effort put into the costumes was pretty impressive for a regular school production. Never mind that half of those supernatural creatures wouldn’t even be found in a forest of all places.

The most adorable part of the play was probably when Dylan accidentally shouted out Ben’s name after the mermaid supposedly speared ‘Blue’ on the arm. He also looked genuinely worried with the fake blood. Even from a few lanes away, Stiles could hear Fran’s giddy giggling. Erica squealed delightedly, whispering about how cute they looked. Scott even beat Mrs. McCall in ‘awwing’ loudly.

And then Blue gave his rousing monologue to convince Red to continue their quest.

Erica dug her elbow into Stiles’ side and Scott had to slap his hand over Stiles’ mouth to stop him from reciting along to the monologue he knew by heart. After Ben was done, delivered it all with a flourish, and finished off with a determined look that he practiced hours in front of the mirror, Stiles stood up and literally flailed his arms in the air. He couldn’t clap. It would ruin the moment. But he was so ridiculously proud.

Their Dad stood up too, raising both thumbs in the air and Fran jumped up and down so much that she had to grab Richard’s hand so as not to fall over. Robbie remained seated but he was recording his family’s reactions, including Jackson somewhere down the front pumping a fist in the air, Scott who gamely flailed along with Stiles, and then Allison and Lydia somewhere in another lane, who were standing and beaming.

They all sat back down after about a minute. And no one in the audience called them out on it. Most people were used to the Stilinski family and friends during plays. And if they weren’t, they could suck it up, in Stiles’ opinion.

“What was that?” Isaac asked, laughing good-naturedly at Stiles and Scott.

Erica giggled and snapped a picture of Stiles, who was still watching his brother intently. Ben didn’t seem to notice his family’s reactions, but no doubt Robbie will show him the footage later.

Scott threw an arm across Stiles’ shoulders. “Ben was so awesome, dude!”

Stiles was still hand-flapping. “I cannot wait for the day my brother gets an Academy Award.” He was grinning so wide, his cheeks hurt.

The first half of the play ended just as Red and Blue had found the Wolf’s den. Most of the crowd started talking, excited buzzing happening in the air. Some stood up to go to the bathroom, or to get food, to stretch their limbs, or to talk to some in the crowd.

Isaac stood up to go pee, while Erica went over to Boyd and Scott went over to Allison. Mrs. McCall was talking to a woman at the row across the aisle. 

Stiles wasn’t in the mood to go to his family. Not yet at least. Feeling eyes on him, he looked to the side. Derek was staring right at him.

Stiles beamed, pleased when Derek chuckled.

“You look really happy,” Derek said softly. Despite the buzz of the auditorium and the two seats separating them, Stiles could hear him perfectly.

“I am.” Stiles grinned widely. “Do you like the play so far?”

Derek nodded. “Ben is really, really good. I know you’re proud of him.”

“I am,” Stiles said, nodding happily. “I’m just so… My entire family is here, and you’re here, and everything is almost perfect.”

“Almost?” Derek asked.

“You’re sitting too far away,” Stiles said.

Derek chuckled. “I want to sit beside you too.”

They both wanted to, but they knew they couldn’t. Stiles flashed back to that kiss. He stroked his torso. The red marks were gone, but he could still imagine the tingly feeling of them under his shirt. Derek watched him.

“You and Isaac and Erica are coming to Mama’s Diner after the play, right?”

Derek gave him a wry grin. “We’ve been invited by you, Ben, the Sheriff, a very insistent Mrs. McCall, all the nurses and doctors at the hospital, my patients, my neighbors, the lovely girl behind the cashier I always see at the grocery, the deputies around town, and pretty much every other person I meet. That’s a lot of expectations on a couple of newcomers.”

Stiles laughed. “I can’t wait to see you guys. It’s gonna be wild.”

Stiles and Derek had enough time to exchange a few pleasantries with some of the people. Stiles had bounded over to his family, taking several pictures with Fran and Robbie and his father, while he and Robbie deftly avoided taking any pictures with Richard.

The lights on stage flickered a few times to signal the start of the second half and the people started returning to their seats. Stiles was still his family when the soft strains of piano keys filled the air. Fran scooted over, letting Stiles on her seat and sitting on Richard’s lap. Fran ignored Robbie’s glare and their father’s pointed look. Stiles had to bite back laughter as he saw Richard look uncomfortable for the first time.

They all sat together, gazes fixed on the corner at the bottom of the stage where Jill was playing the piano. She wasn’t up onstage for her solo since the music was supposed to set the mood for the next half of the play, but Stiles and his family watched her and Robbie zoomed in on her with a video camera.

The music was soothing and thoughtful before rising into a crescendo that tapered off into a melancholic tone that swept over their heads. It then ended with a high strained piece, before stopping immediately, as if a question was left open. As soon as the last traces of the music tapered off, applause broke out and Fran brought her fingers to her lips and let out a shrill whistle that echoed throughout the auditorium.

Jill stood by her piano and, while out of sight to most of the crowd, she did a small bow. She grinned right at her family while she did it too.

Stiles went back to his seat just as the curtains rolled open.

_(Red and Blue managed to capture the Wolf, wrapping it up in the net that they were given by the Mermaid. But before they could call on the Witch to exchange the Wolf for Violet, they realized that the Wolf was not dangerous at all. He was just alone and very, very sad. Red and Blue argued over what to do, but in the end they didn’t want the lonely Wolf to be eaten by the big bad Witch.)_

The Wolf in question was played by a boy named Jared, wrapped up in a furry costume and big ears. He was a lot shorter and smaller than Ben and Dylan so he didn’t have to crouch or hunch his shoulders, and he had a loud voice and wasn’t embarrassed to growl. He had some lines, but he growled more often than not and followed after Red and Ben.

“Oh my god,” Erica suddenly gasped. She turned to Isaac. “He reminds me of Derek! You know the–”

Isaac was nodding. “–the Halloween costume!”

They giggled and Stiles couldn’t help looking over. Past the two, Derek was sinking in his seat with a flush.

Stiles didn’t want to ask. It wasn’t his business, but his mouth decided to ask on its own. “What Halloween costume?”

If it was possible, Derek slunk down even further and tried to hide behind his hands as Erica and Isaac turned to Stiles with matching grins.

“Oh my god, I think I have it on my phone,” Erica said, pulling out her iphone. “I remember shooting copies of some of the photo albums we have to leave behind in NYC. I know I put it in the ‘Embarrass Derek’ folder.”

Isaac was snickering behind his hand.

“Erica, stop it,” Derek hissed.

Erica ignored him, scrolling furiously through her phone. She grinned in satisfaction just as Derek tried to grab it. Isaac blocked him with an arm.

“Look!” Erica shoved the iphone at Stiles’ face until he had to lean back before his eyes crossed.

Stiles had felt secondhand embarrassment before, for Scott a lot of the time, but this was the first time he ever thought it was possible for him to blush for someone.

Derek was probably about six at the picture, wide grin, ridiculously messy mop of hair, and baby fat sprinkled along his cheeks, limbs, and tummy. He was in a wolf-themed onesie, with a hood that was pulled up to reveal a pair of furry ears. Derek still had the thick eyebrows, even as a kid, and he was smiling wide and gap-toothed. He looked so ridiculously adorable, so much so that Stiles couldn’t help the body flush that overcame him.

“Oh my god,” he gaped. “Derek, this is so…”

Derek groaned. “Erica! Isaac!”

Erica cackled and Isaac snickered.

“I’ll send you the picture,” Erica whispered, winking.

They turned back to the play, Stiles struggling not to even look at Derek. He looked so adorable as a child and look at him now, a man’s _man_. He bit his lip to hide a grin.

_(So Red and Blue and the Wolf decided to go back into the forest and get the Ghouls and Ghosts, Zombies, Mummies, Vampires, and Mermaids together to fight against the evil Witch and save Violet. The Witch tried to attack them but their combined forces managed to stop her and they banished her from the forest where she was never to return.)_

The big battle was pretty tame, probably because they were adamant not to overplay violence in a children’s play, but the scenes and all the running and chasing and the swordplay were well choreographed so it didn’t just look like a bunch of kids running around shouting on stage.

Ben ‘fought ’ valiantly and Stiles could happily pretend to hear the clangs and slashes of swords.

_(In the end, Red, Blue, Violet, the Wolf, and all the creatures of the forest celebrated Halloween together and lived happily ever after.)_

The crowd of performers bowed to loud applause, whoops, and whistles.

* * *

Ben ran down the stage, scrambling between the seats, and then launching himself at their Dad, landing on his lap.

“I am so proud of you, kiddo,” John said, wrapping Ben in his arms.

“You did so great!” Fran shouted, joining Ben on their father’s lap. She kissed him on the cheek.

Robbie grinned, sitting on the armrest and ruffling Ben’s hair.

“Buddy! Oh my god! Best acting ever!” Stiles joined the pile, settling on the other seat.

“What about me?” Jill asked, running towards them. John opened his arms and she landed on Ben and Fran, all three fitting themselves over their Dad’s lap.

“Your piano solo was the best!” Stiles said.

“You need to play that at home again, dear,” John said, kissing her on the cheek.

Ben was still in his stage clothes and would most likely stay that way for the entire night. He was sweaty from the stage lights, but he was grinning wide.

“Did you get it all on video?” he asked Robbie. “Even Jill?”

“Got it all here,” Robbie said, waving at the video camera. “We can have it edited and we can watch it again. You can see everyone’s reaction during your monologue. And Jill’s solo too, of course.”

Hugs and kisses were shared as the Stilinskis crowded around that seat, filled with love, happiness, and adoration for one another. The rest can wait.

* * *

The journey to Mama’s Diner was, in a word, loud.

The Stilinskis had two vehicles, Stiles’ jeep and their Dad’s cruiser. Ben and Jill were insistent on riding with Stiles, while Robbie was insistent on not being anywhere near Richard. So with Robbie on the passenger seat, Jill and Ben practically bouncing around at the back, and all of them practically having about three separate conversations with one another, the noise was crazy.

Stiles parked about two blocks away from the diner. With all the people that were going to be there, he was much better off parking somewhere a little farther along. And from two blocks away, he could already hear the party going on.

Stiles and his siblings rounded the corner and were met with one of the best sights in town.

Mama’s Diner was owned by the Bean Family and had been standing proud for over fifty years. It has been a part of its tradition to open the diner for holidays, after school events, the occasional birthdays, and other events. Now the diner was open and kicking, with a small army of part-time servers milling around the dozens and dozens of tables all along their parking lot. A large crowd was already gathered and there was already a van parked as close as it could to the crowd where some teenagers were hauling a few speakers, probably to serenade the crowd. It was one big town party that would last through early morning.

“Awesome!” Jill was already heading towards the band.

“There’s Dylan!” Ben shouted, already bouncing off.

Robbie grabbed them both by the collars. Jill tried to bat his hands away while Ben whined loudly.

“Nuh-uh. Table first, kids. We’ll need something large enough for about a dozen.”

Stiles looked around, wincing. “I don’t think we’ll find one. Half the town’s here.”

“Stiles!”

Stiles grinned, a hand shooting up in the air. “Yo, Danny!”

Danny grinned, weaving around the crowd. He ruffled Ben’s hair fondly. “Hello, Stilinski kids. Mrs. McCall managed to commandeer you guys a table right over there.” He pointed over his shoulder. “You should have seen her. That lady can hold three tables by herself.”

“It helps that everyone knows she can take a scalpel to a body like a pro,” Stiles said, snickering. “Or if she’s got a syringe with her.”

“We’ve got seats now! / Can we go?” Ben and Jill started shouting at Robbie.

Robbie sighed. “Fine. But come back in ten. Dad and Fran will be here.”

“And Richard!” Ben said. He had warmed up to the blonde British boyfriend a lot quicker than Stiles and Robbie. Robbie made a face.

Ben and Jill ran off and Robbie scoffed, rolling his eyes at Stiles and Danny.

“I’ll just play nice with some friends. Be there in a bit.” He walked off. “Later, Danny.”

Stiles pretended not to see Danny checking out his brother. “Are the others here?” he asked.

Danny shook his head as they walked around the myriad of people. “Scott went home to change, which is pretty interesting because the Argents are already here, without Allison I have to add.” Stiles snickered at that. “Boyd’s over there with his family.” They both waved when they caught Boyd’s eye. “Jackson will come, probably planning to drum up anticipation for his birthday party in a few weeks. Lydia will come and will stay only if someone gets a party going here.”

“And,” Danny drawled, grinning. “The Hales are already here.”

Stiles tried not to perk up. He really did. But if he suddenly zeroed in on a familiar back and torso standing a ways away, then only Danny was there to see it. And Danny was awesome so Stiles was fairly sure he would not blab.

“So…” Danny drawled.

Stiles raised an eyebrow when he didn’t speak more. “So?”

“Congratulations on the big day.” Danny smirked.

Stiles paused in his tracks. “What big day?” At Danny’s suggestive eyebrow waggle, Stiles deadpanned. “I am not marrying him, you ass. He’s not even my boyfriend.”

Danny rolled his eyes. “Oh, come on. How long are you gonna play that card?”

Stiles glared. “He is not. We’re just… dating.”

“Exclusively?” Danny pressed. “Which is kinda the requirement for boyfriend-hood, Stiles.”

Stiles glared, until a light bulb flickered in his head. “You’re in on Jackson and Boyd’s bet, aren’t you?”

“Of course, I am.”

So maybe Danny’s not awesome anymore.

Stiles punched him on the shoulder and he frowned when Danny barely even flinched. “Piss off, man.” He stalked off to Danny laughing at his back.

There were three tables, a large one for the Stilinskis, and two small ones for the Hales and the McCalls. Derek was talking to Melissa and some of the other doctors and medical personnel from the hospital, Erica was gone, and Isaac was seated at one of the tables. Stiles wasn’t about to bother Derek who was making nice with everybody, so he sat down beside Isaac.

It wasn’t long before his Dad, Fran, and Richard arrived. Scott too, who was still wearing the exact same clothes he was wearing before, which Danny pointed flat out when he passed by their table. Stiles simply laughed as Scott gave chase to a running Danny. Erica came back from meeting Boyd’s family, the large grin and slight blush on her face saying that it went well. Ben and Jill came back from playing around with friends. The Stilinskis had the loudest table, but the Hales had the busiest as many came to meet the small family.

Then the food came in and it was chaos as plates flew.

“Dad! You cannot eat that!” Fran scolded, swiping away a burger. She placed a bowl of salad in front of him. “Here. Eat this.”

Their Dad looked so affronted at the bowl of greens in front of him that Stiles choked on his hotdog.

“Oh my god, Dad! Your face!” He laughed loudly.

His Dad glared at him. “I have half a mind to ground you until you’re fifty.” He turned to Fran. “And I want to eat meat! My son and my daughter were fantastic today and if I want to eat processed meat to celebrate, then I will eat processed meat, goddamn–”

Ben pointed a finger at his Dad. Jill just snorted. Robbie was just laughing at everything while snacking on the clubhouse sandwich that he took ten minutes silently judging for its nutritional value and cooking technique like the iffy cook he was. Richard looked a little overwhelmed.

“–goshdarnit!” Their Dad amended, glaring at Fran. “Give it to me!”

“No.” Fran rolled her eyes, tossing the burger to one side. Their Dad whined. “I will not have you clogging your arteries any further.”

Their Dad glared at her before suddenly and childishly grabbing a handful of fries from Stiles’ plate and stuffing them in his mouth.

“DAD!” Stiles shouted and Fran screeched.

“Don’t touch my fries! You’re my father! How could you?” Stiles pushed his Dad’s hands away. Ben and Jill laughed.

“You can have some of mine,” Ben offered.

“Richard!” Their Dad bellowed. “Hand me that burger!”

“NO!” Fran frowned.

Richard looked so uncomfortable glancing between their Dad and Fran. He looked like a dear caught in headlights. “Er…”

“Give it to Dad,” Jill said, smirking.

“Give it to Fran,” Stiles said, just to tease.

“Give it to me!” Ben said brightly.

“There is something wrong with my family,” Robbie sighed.

In the end, Richard just sat frozen. Fran looked triumphant, their Dad kept glaring, Robbie was smirking at Richard’s discomfort, and Stiles and Jill were amused.

Dylan, Ben’s bestfriend who played Red, came over with his parents after a while and he and Ben spent time pushing each other’s buttons and laughing. Stiles glanced at Scott over at the other table, and Scott glanced back. They grinned.

Then Scott tossed a ketchup packet at his head. Stiles retaliated with a greasy burger wrapper at his cheek. Scott tossed back a sticky and wet ball of paper placemat. Stiles sought revenge by flicking a spoonful of coleslaw at Scott’s bucket of fries.

“Score!” Stiles crowed as it landed neatly inside.

Scott let out a squawk. He hated coleslaw with a passion.

“Scott/Stiles.” Melissa and John chastised.

“Sorry,” they muttered.

Over at the other table, Stiles saw Derek watching him. He ducked his head in embarrassment.

A few minutes later, two males and a female approached the Stilinski table.

“That’s my cue,” Jill said, tossing an onion ring into her mouth. She wiped her hands on a napkin.

Their Dad leveled a look at them all. “Jillian.”

Jill sighed. “I know. We’ll keep the volume at a level that does not equate to a public disturbance. No cursing, rapping, blatantly suggestive lyrics, or any type of music that will cause a heart attack for some of our elderly locals. No provoking anybody, least of all the local deputies, because despite them being in casual clothes, they will arrest us. And do not do anything to piss off the Sheriff, a.k.a. Dad.”

“Good,” their Dad nodded. “And saying piss off is also banned.”

One of the males groaned, stopping when their Dad glared at him.

“Fine.” Jill rolled her eyes. She turned to one of the males. “I’m on drums.”

Stiles saw their Dad try to sneak one of Jill’s onion rings. It was almost to his mouth when Fran slapped it right out of his hand. Stiles snickered.

Music started up soon enough and someone in the crowd let out a whoop.

“Aww, sweet!” Scott shot up and Stiles too, the both of them looking over the sea of people to the small stage and somewhat-dance floor at the end of the parking lot.

“Let’s get the party started!” somewhat shouted from the back. One of the off-duty cops raised his badge in the air. The person who shouted immediately shut up, to the laughter of the diners.

The band started playing a dance-y pop song, very crowd-friendly, and easy on the ears, the music meant to delight the crowd of locals and not like some heavyweight concert. The voice of the lead singer, male, rang out clear across the lot.

There was a waterfall of strawberry blonde from the corner of his eye and Lydia was already motioning to them. Allison was also waving a few tables away.

“Methinks Miss Martin is already amping up for a little hot and heavy,” Stiles said.

Fran wiped her mouth with a napkin and then scrunched it up into a ball. She tossed it and it landed neatly inside an empty cup. She stood up.

“I, for one, want this hot and heavy action.” She turned to Richard. “A dance, sweetie?”

Robbie scoffed, earning a warning glare from their Dad.

Richard smiled, taking one last sip of his drink before standing up. He turned to their Dad first. “If I may, sir?”

Their Dad seemed pleased by that. Stiles knew he himself was. He looked at Robbie whose eyebrow was raised in interest.

“Save me a dance, would you, darling?” John said.

“Of course, and please do not eat more fries while we’re gone.” Fran kissed her Dad on the cheek before she and Richard headed for the band. Some people saw them and the intrigued whispering started.

Their Dad unabashedly shoved a fry in his mouth. Stiles only sighed. Robbie shrugged.

“Let’s get going,” Scott said. “Are you…” He tilted his head to the side and looked one way, over at Derek.

“Maybe later,” Stiles said, none too subtly trying to glance Derek’s way. He was talking to Isaac and they were looking at the band in interest. Erica was already standing and waving at Boyd at another table.

“Can he even dance?” Scott asked curiously. He then grinned. “Doctor Twinkletoes?”

Stiles shoved him with a laugh. “I don’t know, actually. That’d be hot though.”

Stiles glanced back at the band. He could see Jill pounding the drums, a large smile on her face. And there were Fran and Richard, the attractive couple dancing along. There were only about three couples on the floor.

“I always knew Fran was a hot dancer,” Scott said. Scott had nursed a monster crush on Fran back when they were in middle school. It was a testament to their friendship that they’ve gotten over that without scuffles. “Didn’t expect Richard to be that good too.”

For someone as tall and formal-looking as he was, Richard weaved around Fran fluidly and was unembarrassed to pull off a few dance moves.

“Betcha Danny’s drooling right now,” Stiles said.

Scott snickered. “I’ll go and get Ally. Join us?”

Stiles raised an eyebrow, smirking. “Threesome? Ooh, definitely.”

Scott clapped him on the back and jogged off.

“Can I go find Dylan?” Ben asked, tugging away Stiles’ milkshake from his father’s hand. “And stop that, Dad. Fran’s gonna get mad.”

John sighed. “Fine. Go.”

Robbie stood up. “I am gonna go grab myself a dance partner.”

Stiles grinned. “Richard’s a good dancer, is he not?”

Robbie rolled his eyes. “I can do better. I’m off hunting.” He looked at Stiles knowingly. “You?”

“Settling for all the broken-hearted people you’ll be sending my way,” Stiles said, raising his hand to his chest in a gesture of pain.

“You could dance with… you-know-who,” Robbie said, leaning close enough for only Stiles to hear. “Not even Dad would protest and frankly, I want something interesting to actually happen other than British boy over there.”

“You are really mean towards Richard,” Stiles said, laughing. “And, I don’t know. If it happens, it happens.” He glanced at Derek.

Robbie nodded, patting Stiles at the back of the neck fondly before walking off. Stiles grinned and straightened his glasses.

Stiles turned and saw his Dad grab the last bucket of fries. He sighed. “Dad, do not–”

“I am getting my fries.” John stood up and walked off without a word, leaving Stiles gaping.

“I am telling on you!” Stiles shouted at his retreating back. John only waved a hand over his shoulder.

“A dance?”

Stiles turned around, already grinning. “Why of course, milady.” He offered his arm.

Lydia took it, winking. “Sure? Your hot doctor not going to be jealous?”

Stiles tried not to. He really did. But with Lydia’s words, he couldn’t help casting a glance over to Derek, who was talking to Isaac and Erica.

“I’m not sure,” he admitted.

“Let’s find out, then,” Lydia said.

“Lydia! Do not–”

Too late. Lydia hauled him off like a ragdoll towards the trio.

“Dance?” she asked, smiling sweetly.

“Try keeping me away,” Erica said. “I’m getting Boyd. You coming, Isaac?”

Isaac shook his head. “I’m good here.”

“Come on, bro,” Stiles said, pulling Isaac up. “Total group thing, no one-on-one dance partners.”

“I…um…” Isaac reddened. And wasn’t that just adorable. “I don’t dance.”

“This is all fun, sweetie,” Lydia said, weaving an arm around his waist. “We’ll be with you.”

Stiles nodded. “Plus, everybody else’s grandmother is gonna be dancing. We can’t let ourselves be beaten.”

“You guys are taking too long,” Jackson appeared, kissing Lydia on the cheek. “Why aren’t we out there yet?”

“Guys,” Isaac tried to bat away their hands. He looked to Derek, who was merely watching and grinning. “I really, really don’t–”

“Let’s get going, people,” Danny popped up. “Come on, Isaac. I’ll dance with you.” He made kissy faces before he and Jackson hauled off a red-faced and struggling Isaac.

“Erica,” Derek said, looking at her. He nodded his head in Isaac’s direction.

“Will do, chief, but I’m sure baby boy will be fine,” Erica said. She kissed Derek’s cheek and followed.

“Now,” Lydia rounded on the doctor. “As for you, Doctor Hale–”

Derek had his palms out in surrender. “Sorry. I really do not dance, Lydia.”

Stiles pouted. “Come on, Derek. I’m sure you can show off a few dance moves.”

Derek seemed to almost reconsider at Stiles’ request, but he shook his head.

“Thank you, but I still have to play nice with a lot of people. You go have fun.”

Lydia sighed. “What a waste. But we’ll see when the slow dances come in, doc. I will get one dance out of you yet.”

Derek only laughed.

Lydia tugged on his arm, but then decided better of it and gave Stiles a look. She let go and walked off, throwing one last look over her shoulder.

Stiles turned to Derek, who seemed to be glad he stayed, even for a while. “So… no to dancing?”

Derek chuckled softly. “Maybe if it was just the two of us…” He trailed off.

I don’t mind dancing with you. I don’t care if everyone sees. Stiles was tempted to say those words, but he bit them back.

“Have fun. Play nice with the old ladies,” Stiles said, grinning. He knew his words were half-hearted at best.

Derek seemed to understand. He reached out, uncaring about whoever could be watching, and placed a hand on his arm.

“Have fun,” he said softly. “I’ll be watching.”

Stiles nodded, flushing a little at the thought, before walking off to join his friends.

* * *

A few hours later, the band was serenading the crowd with a requested oldies ballad so most of the teens sat this one out, except for Stiles, Scott and Allison who were all dancing together. Allison had her back to Scott’s chest, one hand entwined with his and the other hand with Stiles, who was in front of her. Both had a hand on her waist as they all swayed back and forth. They would just end up falling on their faces if they tried so much as taking a step.

By the time they got back, everyone had retreated back to the Stilinski table, a mess of sweat, excitement, and loud conversation.

A red-faced and embarrassed Isaac was seated beside a highly amused Derek and was even clutching at Derek’s sleeve. They were all still taking about how all the girls had ganged up and danced with-and-against the sweet boy. Lydia and Danny in particular were taking great delight in watching him all flustered. Erica and Jackson were watching the video Erica managed to take of her cousin.

“Don’t worry about it, Isaac,” Derek was saying, wrapping an arm around his shoulder. “You did very well. We’re very proud.”

“And Laura will love this video,” Erica said, an evil smile on her face.

Isaac let out a squawk and literally lunged for her. Erica screeched, hiding behind Boyd. Allison giggled and darted over to kiss Isaac on the cheek.

“Stiles.”

He turned back to see Jill and Robbie. Jill was chugging down a root beer while wiping at her sweaty neck.

“Where’s Fran? And Ben?” Robbie asked.

“Fran’s chasing after Dad and Ben’s with Dylan,” Stiles said, taking off his glasses. He wiped it on the edge of his shirt.

A male passed by and let out a wolf whistle. “Looking good, Jill.”

“Thanks,” Jill grinned, winking.

“Keep walking, Matthews.” Robbie said threateningly, not even looking his way. Jill scoffed at that.

Stiles chuckled. He made to walk over to Derek. Derek was already looking at him, eyes and smile wide and gentle. Derek was already reaching out for him but Stiles jerked when something hard suddenly hit his shoulder. In the next second, he was drenched.

“What the hell!” He jumped up as something cold soaked his entire right sleeve and most of his chest.

“Oh my god! I am so sorry!” The waitress gasped, placing the sopping tray on the table and looking at Stiles with wide and panicked eyes. “The tray was heavy… and I…oh my god, I am so, so, so sorry!”

“Aww, hell,” Stiles muttered. It would have been ok if it was just water, but this was soda and in no time flat Stiles was sticky.

“That is gonna stain,” Jill muttered, grabbing some napkins for her brother. “You ok?”

“I’m fine, just wet,” Stiles wrinkled his nose. “And sticky, damn.” He sighed. He turned to the waitress. “It’s ok, miss. It’s good. But I gotta get out of this.” He took off his glasses, shaking off the few droplets that got splashed on them.

“I got one of my shirts, but your jeep’s two blocks off,” Robbie commented.

“I have one,” Scott said. “But our car’s way over there.” He made a faraway motion with his hands.

“You’re not borrowing one of mine,” Jackson said, scoffing. Stiles flicked droplets of soda at his face and just managed to avoid Jackson’s swift kick to his shin.

Stiles frowned. He lifted up his shirt and squeezed it off, wincing at the amount of soda. “Well, this sucks.”

The poor waitress looked close to hyperventilating. “We might have an extra shirt from the staff. I could go–”

“We’ll be fine,” Lydia said, gently steering the girl away. “It’s not your fault.” When the girl had left, after a few more apologies, Lydia lifted her nose in the air. “I’ll sooner have you half-naked than reeking of burgers and grease and who knows what else.”

“I’m not gonna stand here half-naked.” Stiles frowned. When Lydia looked pointedly at his exposed stomach, he sighed. “I’ll risk the walk back to the jeep.”

“You sure?” Robbie asked.

“Yeah, I’d better get out of this,” Stiles said, already feeling chilled. “Tell Dad and Ben, would you?” He jogged off quickly.

Well, this was nice. Not only was his shirt soaked, but it was already a quarter to eleven o’clock. Most of the parents and older crowd would be leaving by now and he knew that Derek had an early call time tomorrow morning. Derek was adamant about his no-dancing stance despite the combined efforts of Allison and Lydia. Erica hadn’t even bothered trying. It would have been nice to share an event like this with Derek. Still – and Stiles couldn’t help patting his torso at this thought – his short moment with Derek earlier at the back of the school was enough for today. He didn’t mind.

Stiles was rounding the corner when he heard the sound of footsteps. He knew it probably was just somebody else on the way to their car, but being the Sheriff’s kid taught him the importance of being cautious. He made to turn back just as someone pressed against his back.

“Hi.”

Stiles heart thudded against his chest. He looked up, his nose brushing against Derek’s cheek. He chuckled. “Damn. You are such a creeper. I almost had a heart attack.”

Derek smiled, his large hand on Stiles’ back. “Thought I’d help you get those off.”

Stiles raised an eyebrow at him. “Are you propositioning me? In a sexy way? Because I don’t mind. Not one bit. Take it away.”

Derek flushed and chuckled, kissing him lightly on the cheek. “Come on. The Camaro’s closer.”

There was no one else on the streets. Most of the people were still back at the diner, so they were able to hold hands on their quick jog down the block. The black Camaro was there and Stiles shivered a little in his drenched shirt as Derek unlocked the door.

“What did you tell the others?” Stiles asked. “They’re gonna talk you know. And could have possibly followed you and are now watching us from behind those cars as we speak.”

“Didn’t say anything,” Derek said. “One of the doctors came to talk to me, walked off with him before taking a detour around to come after you.”

“Smooth.” Stiles chuckled. He looked up as Derek pulled out a black Henley from the back seat. “Yours?” When Derek nodded, he gasped. “Now it’s coming together. You purposefully had that lovely waitress sabotage my clothes just so you have the excuse of getting me into one of yours, you sneaky bastard.”

Derek frowned, but his eyes glowed with mirth. “You’re forgetting one thing.” He tugged Stiles by the edge of his shirt. “It also gives me an excuse to take the clothes off you.”

Stiles swallowed, watching the mirth in Derek’s eyes turn dark and heady. His heart beat rather loud and strong in his chest.

“Go ahead then,” he said, grinning and holding his arms out.

Derek let out a chuckle and leaned forward, pressing his mouth gently against Stiles. He then slowly undid the buttons with nimble fingers, gently stroking the pads of his fingers against every new inch of skin exposed.

“You look gorgeous tonight,” Derek said, looking at Stiles chest.

Stiles flushed, a pleasant heat coiling under his seat. He let his hands fist against the Camaro instead of grabbing onto Derek and letting him get wet too.

“Of course I do, especially with the soda soaking through me,” Stiles said, shivering when Derek leaned down to press a kiss against his sticky wet collarbone. He jumped at the hint of tongue. “Derek.”

“Yes?”

Stiles groaned at the mischief in his eyes. He poked Derek on the chest with a finger. “Less teasing, more taking off. I’m cold.”

Derek chuckled, making quick work of Stiles’ polo shirt.

Stiles peeled it off his arms, frowning at the mess. “This sucks. I love this shirt. And I’m still sticky.”

“Here.” Derek handed him a packet of baby wipes. At Stiles’ amused giggles, Derek grinned. “Doctor, remember?”

“Thank you.” Stiles wiped down his arms and chest, turning around wordlessly so Derek could get to his back.

This was nice. Stiles liked it when Derek was affectionate and paid attention to him. It made him feel ridiculously happy. It was true that Derek still seemed hesitant most of the time, but Stiles appreciated the times he did push just a little more. Plus, it wasn’t like Stiles would ever say no to Derek.

“Done,” Derek said, kissing his shoulder.

“Thank you,” Stiles said, leaning his head back a little to nudge playfully against Derek’s. He looked back. “Maybe this time I can put on my own clothes?”

Derek kissed his bare shoulder again and handed him the Henley. Stiles put it on, handing Derek his glasses. The shirt was warm and smelled of detergent and Derek’s lingering scent of bergamot and musk. It was a bit big on him since Derek had broader shoulders and Stiles huffed out at the way the sleeves went past his wrists and over his palms.

“I look like a kid wearing Dad’s clothes or something,” he muttered, trying and failing to roll the sleeves up.

“Not exactly the metaphor I’d go for,” Derek said with a chuckle. He reached up, placing Stiles’ glasses on his face for him and then helped him with the sleeves.

After that, Derek switched their positions, gently manhandling Stiles until they were leaning against the side of the Camaro with Stiles’ back to Derek’s chest. They were looking at the direction of the diner with the bright lights and the loud laughter of merry townsfolk. Despite the fact that it was the middle of autumn, there was a soft breeze in the air and Stiles sighed happily as Derek’s arms wrapped around his waist.

“This is nice,” Stiles said, placing his hands over Derek’s on top of his stomach.

“As I was saying before, you look gorgeous tonight,” Derek said, his breath warm against Stiles’ ear.

Stiles tilted his head to look back. “Thank you. You, on the other hand, look ridiculously ravishing.”

Derek chuckled. “I was watching you, you know.”

“You said you would, plus I saw you stalking around the edges of the dance floor a couple of times,” Stiles said. “You are such a creeper. And don’t think I didn’t see you looking when you should have been paying attention to your conversation with Dr. Quinn.”

“I was trying not to lose sight of you,” Derek said, as if that was the simplest thing in the world.

Stiles blushed and he was thankful Derek couldn’t see his face. “Or you could have just joined in.”

“I don’t dance,” Derek said.

“Oh, come on,” Stiles tugged at Derek’s hand until he let Stiles have them. Stiles spread their arms out ala Titanic, except for the ship coming in the form of the Camaro. “As absolutely insane as Med school was, I know even young hopeful would-be-doctors know how to get down.”

Derek chuckled. “Some do. Not everyone. Not me.”

“Aww…” Stiles said, bringing down their arms. He settled back into Derek’s arms.

Derek leaned over, nosing along Stiles’ cheek. Stiles could feel the smile across his lips. “But I do have a very nice singing voice.”

Stiles’s eyes widened, but before he could react, Derek had pushed them off the edge of the Camaro until they were standing at the side of the block. He pinned Stiles between his arms, holding their hands together in a knot of fingers over Stiles’ stomach. Stiles gasped as Derek’s voice flowed into his ears.

_“There used to be a graying tower alone on the sea. You became the light on the dark side of me.” [[x](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=p2JoWR7t0Sk)]_

Stiles couldn’t suppress a full body shudder. Derek’s voice was low and smooth, a breathy murmur against his ear like a secret song.

 _“Love remained a drug that's the high and not the pill,”_ Derek sang, lips brushing against Stiles skin. They swayed from side to side and Stiles couldn’t help gripping Derek’s hands tightly in his. _“But did you know that when it snows, my eyes become large and the light that you shine can be seen.”_

Derek gripped Stiles’ hands tightly in turn and Stiles groaned at the sensation of Derek’s warm breath and rough stubble as he pressed a few kisses along his neck.

 _“Baby, I compare you to a kiss from a rose on the gray.”_ Derek’s voice took on a slightly raspier edge. _“The more I get of you, the stranger it feels. And now that your rose is in bloom, a light hits the gloom on the gray…”_

Derek drifted off, but Stiles would have none of that. He turned around in Derek’s arms, arms wrapping around his shoulders in a fierce embrace.

“More,” he whispered, voice cracking a little. “More, Derek.”

Derek huffed in a short breath of fond laughter and pressed their foreheads together.

 _“There is so much a man can tell you, so much he can say,”_ Derek continued, his voice rising a little in a crescendo. He looked Stiles in the eyes with so much intensity, that it was making it a little hard to breathe. _“_

 _You remain my power, my pleasure, my pain.”_ The sudden high trickled to a soft whisper against Stiles mouth. _“Baby.”_

Stiles whimpered. He held Derek’s face between his hands and pressed their lips together.

The kiss was smoldering, heavy, all tongue and lips and teeth, that Stiles was scrambling to press them tighter against each other, so close that it almost hurt. Derek’s arms caged him in, one arm around his waist and the other holding the back of his neck. Stiles practically moaned into Derek’s mouth as Derek swept inside his mouth like the sweetest wave. Stiles let him, opening up to him as easy as breathing.

They parted for a moment, and Stiles ducked down to press wet and hot open-mouthed kisses against Derek’s neck, nosing under his jaw and mumbling words against the skin that he doubted they could both understand much less remember later. He nipped at the skin on his neck, making Derek groan, and mouthed at it in apology before doing it again until an angry red bruise was clear just under the neckline of his shirt.

Stiles felt Derek slot a muscular thigh in between his and the slide of it against his slowly-growing erection made him jerk. Derek chuckled dark and filthy against his ear before he canted Stiles’ hips up slightly to press harder and then arched him backwards so Derek can get at his neck, rubbing his stubble against the sensitive skin and breathing in.

“Oh, god,” Stiles gasped. “Derek.”

“Stiles,” Derek whispered back against his neck and Stiles wriggled, pleasure coursing through him at the tone of absolute filth and want in that word. “My turn.”

Stiles bit his lip as Derek kept him in place with one strong arm, before he used the other to tug at the Henley with one hand, exposing his pale skin and the starburst of moles. Derek groaned in what could only be absolute delight as he attacked the skin, alternating between smooth licks and little nips, making Stiles shudder and melt against him.

Derek tilted his hips against Stiles and Stiles felt Derek’s hardness pressing against his thigh.

It hit him like a lightning bolt.

He slowly took Derek’s jaw in his hands and pulled him up. He pressed his lips one last time against his, hard and wanting, before gently pulling back and letting go of his jacket. Derek’s lips were a well-kissed red, and there was a love bite slowly building on his neck that Stiles couldn’t help smirking at.

Derek licked his lips, his green eyes so dark Stiles couldn’t resist a quick kiss and then a soft lick of Derek’s swollen lips. They were still pressed together and Stiles was hard, they both were, but Stiles had to… he had to…

“Derek.” Stiles started, a bit too breathless. His lungs were heaving and his heart was loud, too loud, in his ears. “I have to get home.”

Stiles could see the way the magic of the moment suddenly broke in Derek’s eyes. He cursed himself. That wasn’t what he meant to do.

“What…” Derek started, brow furrowing. The smidge of panic erupted in his beautiful green eyes. “I mean… I’m sorry. Did I… Is it something I–”

“Yes! I mean, no! I mean,” Stiles sucked in a breath. It felt like his skin was too tight for him, like there was an itch inside he couldn’t reach, a ridiculously good kind of itch. “Yes, it is you but not in a bad way. In a great way actually. An awesome way.” He pressed the length of his body against Derek, so that Derek won’t mistake the hard and hot rod of his erection. There was a flash of delight in Derek’s eyes.

“I just have to go home, back to my apartment. I have to do something like now, as in right fucking now.”

“Should I…” Derek looked down at the obvious erection.

“Don’t worry.” Stiles leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to Derek’s neck, and then one more just because. “I swear this is good. More than good, actually. It’s awesome, like ridiculously so. And I know you, so stop worrying, ok?” He rubbed a thumb gently against Derek’s cheek. “Promise you’ll call me tomorrow?”

“Ok.” Derek nodded in understanding.

Stiles leaned up, kissing Derek hard on the mouth. With one last smile, Stiles ran off.

* * *

Stiles stumbled into his apartment, toeing his shoes off in the hallway and then running on socked feet into his living room. In his haste, he slid, almost slamming his shin against the coffee table and scrambled to his studio. He pulled off his socks, tossing them to the corner.

Then he stopped.

For all the energy bubbling underneath his skin and making his fingers twitch, he knew he had to calm down. He had to get this electricity under control. He took a few deep breaths.

Stiles headed for the shelves, grabbing some of his brushes, stencils, pastels, charcoals, and chalk. He wasn’t sure which one he wanted to use, but he grabbed them all, laying them on the floor in the middle of the studio. He then grabbed a few sheets of thick paper and sat down in front of his things, knees against the hardwood floor and legs tucked under him.

Stiles took a deep breath. He started rifling through his materials before deciding on the charcoal. He leaned down and started to draw. Each stroke reminded him, memories flowing into him.

He could remember everyone at that diner. His father was there, not in his sheriff’s uniform but in his good shirt and jeans, laughing and sneaking in bites of burger and fries and milkshakes and literally running away from his children whenever they tried to get him to stop. Robbie danced with his sisters and some friends, even gamely asking Danny to a slow dance. Jill played beautifully with the band, handling the drums and then the guitar like a dream. Fran was with Richard, introducing him to everyone, proud and confident and so very happy to be home. Ben got lots of dances and hugs and the complete adoration of everyone.

Scott and Allison couldn’t be parted but herded Stiles in for a few three-way dances. Lydia and Jackson took over the dance floor many a time and were full of biting snark and good cheer. Danny had enthusiastically taken Robbie up on a dance before joining Lydia and Erica in manhandling Isaac to a few. Erica danced with everyone who asked, though spent the majority in Boyd’s arms. Isaac, ever shy, was flushed and blundering all throughout like everybody’s sweet, favorite golden boy. Derek, while he could not be pressed to dance, engaged everybody in conversation. He was gentlemanly and courteous, politely accepted the fawning and blatant admiration of the ladies and the friendly digs of the men.

But his eyes were all for Stiles.

Stiles didn’t know how long it took, but by the time he thought to stop, his legs were cramping up and his shoulders were aching from hunching over. He stopped to look at his work.

Stiles could remember how delighted Derek was at seeing everyone coax Isaac onto that dance floor. Derek had both elbows up on the table with his chin on one fist. His head was tilted slightly to the side, eyes half-closed with laugh lines crinkling at the corners of his eyes, and a smile lighting up his entire face. He looked so beautiful in that moment.

Stiles smiled, pulling his legs up and propping his chin on his knees.

Stiles couldn’t see Derek all that much when he was dancing and jumping around with his friends, but he did remember that every time he did think to look, Derek was watching. He would be sitting at their table in silence, or be at another table talking to someone, or he’d just be walking along the edge of the dance floor. No matter where Stiles wandered off to, or was dragged off to. No matter who Stiles was talking to or dancing with.

Derek’s eyes were all for Stiles.

And Stiles could remember the way Derek kissed him, that teasing one along his torso at the back of the school, the heated way he looked at Stiles at the side of the Camaro, the sultry tone of his deep voice when he sang, the passionate kiss on the sidewalk that brought fire to his insides.

He remembered the way Derek would throw his head back when he laughed, the professional way he held himself whenever he was on duty at the hospital, how he preferred barbeque fries to cheesy fries, his passion for baseball and love-hate relationship with reality television, his geek love for Star Wars and Jedi Masters, his man-crush on country singers and anything Southern, how his entire body would soften whenever he talked about his sister, how he glowed with absolute delight whenever Stiles would touch him or kiss him…

Stiles opened his eyes, not realizing he closed them.

That was pretty much it then.

He was obviously, ridiculously in love with Derek Hale.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Constructive concrits are loved. Thank you very much.
> 
> Singing!Derek, I couldn't resist. Don't blame me. The song is "Kiss From A Rose" by Seal. I picked the song at random after I heard it from the radio, and only when I was putting the lyrics in did I realize that it happened to be the perfect fit. Kudos to fate.
> 
> It took me a while to write the chapter because I was agonizing about the eleven extra pages I had on plotsies and stuff and a part about Ben having a panic attack. I decided to scrap the last bit entirely for length’s sake and put in the next chapter instead. I think this fic will probably end up at about six or seven chapters.


	5. Chapter Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Stiles, do you or do you not want to get into art school?” Scott asked, fists on his knees.
> 
> “Why are we even talking about this?” Stiles groaned.
> 
> Scott looked as determined as the day he decided to ask Allison to move in with him, and that is as determined as all hell, all others be damned.
> 
> “Because we have been best friends since we were four and we’ve been soulmates for longer and we both know that you would give both your legs to get into art school and do what you love to do. So, dude, stop beating around the bush.”
> 
> \---
> 
> There were a few texts and a few voice messages and more than a dozen missed calls from Robbie. He called him back.
> 
>  
> 
> _“Stiles! I’ve been calling you!”_
> 
>  
> 
> And that was probably the thing that really made Stiles realize this was happening. That Robbie, who was always the calmest of them all, sounded panicked and worried.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The reception to this has been lovely. THANK YOU SO VERY MUCH!!

Out of all the people in his life, Stiles didn't really expect the first hard push to come from his best friend. It was a Saturday in November on a cozy afternoon when Scott tossed a brown manila envelope on the coffee table in front of him. Scott stood there, arms crossed in front of his chest, and looking down at Stiles with a determined look on his face.

“What’s that?” Stiles asked, nudging the envelope with his foot from his spot on the couch of the Argent-McCall apartment. Scott had invited him for some bro time since Allison was spending the whole day with her mom.

“Why don’t you open it?” Scott asked, still looking as determined as he could be.

Stiles looked at him in puzzlement before sitting up and grabbing the envelope. It was filled with brochures and application forms.

“And these are for?” Stiles pulled one out to read it, then promptly dropped it back in. He let the whole envelope drop down onto the floor. “Scott–”

“Just hear me out, buddy,” Scott said. He slumped down on the couch, facing Stiles.

Stiles glanced at all the art school paraphernalia. “Scott, I don’t–”

“Stiles, do you or do you not want to get into art school?” Scott asked, fists on his knees.

“Why are we even talking about this?” Stiles groaned.

Scott looked as determined as the day he decided to ask Allison to move in with him, and that is as determined as all hell, all others be damned.

“Because we have been best friends since we were four and we’ve been soulmates for longer and we both know that you would give both your legs to get into art school and do what you love to do. So, dude, stop beating around the bush.”

“It’s not that simple,” Stiles argued, that sense of insecurity sparking along his spine. “You of all people should understand.”

“Then finish the damn painting, Stiles,” Scott shouted. His face crumpled in the way he knew Stiles was hurting and it pained him just as much. “Dude, I know how much it still hurts that your Mom’s gone. I do. I loved her too. I still do. And I know that two years is not enough and fuck if forever will even be enough. But don’t stop here. Please.”

Stiles sighed. “I just… I don’t… I can’t even _look_ at it, Scott. How can I finish something I can’t even face?”

Scott hesitated but he put on a brave face. “You man up, that’s what you do.”

There was a silence after that. Scott was determined not to back down and Stiles was trying not to fidget at the force of his best friend’s gaze. This was Scott’s stubborn look and as much as Stiles had always loved that about his best friend, he now kind of wanted to punch it off his face.

“I… Scott…”

Scott stayed silent and Stiles could see the tenseness in his shoulders. He was really not backing out of this one. Stiles silently grabbed the manila envelope and tucked it into his backpack.

That seemed to be enough for Scott. He let out a breath. “Good.”

They turned back to the television.

Silence passed.

“That bit about the soulmates was pretty awesome,” Stiles said quietly.

“I just came up with it,” Scott said. “And you know we are. Soulmates. Right?” He looked a bit worried at the end.

Stiles couldn’t be angry at Scott for anything. He reached over, punching Scott gently on the shoulder.

“Of course, bud. Soulmates for life.”

* * *

Later that night, Allison arrived home and started on dinner while Stiles helped Scott clean up and was preparing to head on out.

“Are you sure you can’t stay for dinner, Stiles?” she asked as she stirred the pot.

Stiles shook his head as he grabbed his stuff. “Thanks, Ally A, but not tonight.”

“He has a hot date,” Scott said, snickering.

“With Dr. Hale?” Allison asked, smiling and looking pleased. Stiles flushed behind his glasses. “How’s it going between you two?”

Stiles rubbed the back of his neck. The realization that he was in love with Derek wasn’t as scary as he expected. Honestly, it was kind of overrated to be in denial over it or to, god forbid, pine for him. This wasn’t a soap opera and while he was stunned, more than that he was _stupidly happy_.

“He’s… he’s kind of perfect,” Stiles admitted. “He’s been good to me.” Allison giggled softly.

“He should be,” Scott said. “If he wasn’t, I’d punch his face in. Even if he looks like he could probably bench press me to death.”

Stiles rolled his eyes fondly at his friend. He jumped slightly when his phone rang and grabbed it.

***Incoming call: Derek***

Stiles didn’t bother finding someplace private in the apartment to talk to Derek. Allison and Scott will probably just follow him. He answered the call, minding how Allison and Scott were trying and failing to listen in as inconspicuously as possible.

“Hey, you. I’m still at Scott and Allison’s place. How’s work?”

 _“Sucks ass,”_ Derek said, and Stiles had to bite down a laugh. _“It seemed like all my most difficult patients decided today was the day to schedule appointments.”_

“That sounds bad,” Stiles said, wincing. Derek had told him a lot of stories and difficult was an understatement. “Are you ok?”

 _“Nothing I can’t handle,”_ Derek said. _“Should I drop by your apartment or–”_ He paused. _“Stiles, give me a sec. Sorry.”_

“No prob,” Stiles said. He tucked the phone between his ear and his shoulder. He grabbed his backpack and started tossing his things inside. He looked at the manila envelope from Scott’s before stuffing it at the very back. He was also vaguely aware of some hurried talking on the other line. He knew what that meant.

“Hey, Ally,” Stiles called out. “I think I might get to stay after all.”

Derek came back on, huffing. _“I just got word, Dr. Jenkins needs someone to help him assist in surgery.”_

Stiles could hear the hesitation and frustration in Derek’s voice. “So this means no to trying out that new bistro out of town?”

 _“I…well…”_ Derek let out another huff before sighing. _“Raincheck?”_

“No problem,” Stiles said, shrugging. “We can try it out next time. I can stay here at Scott and Ally’s for dinner.” He looked over at them. Allison made a sad face for him, but she nodded.

 _“I’m really sorry,”_ Derek said, worried. _“I know you were really looking forward to it.”_

“Hey, you were too.” Stiles laughed. “It’s cool.”

 _“Bistro or not, I was mostly looking forward to spending time with you,”_ Derek admitted.

Stiles smiled, shaking his head. “It’s ok, Derek. I don’t mind.”

He could still feel Derek worrying through the phone. _“I’m really, really sorry. I could try and get out of it and–”_

“Derek,” Stiles said gently. “It’s fine. It’s the first, but it probably won’t be the last date we’ll ever break. You’re busy, I know.”

_“But I… I don’t want work to…”_

Stiles scratched his head in confusion at Derek’s behavior. “Being a doctor is busy work, Derek. It’s not a big deal.”

_“We can go tomorrow for a late lunch, if you’re free?”_

“Sure,” Stiles said. He really didn’t have plans, other than to catch up on some of his TV series. “But only if you are.”

_“I’ll pick you up at your apartment.”_

“Ok, then. See you.”

“Seriously?” Allison called out from the kitchen after Stiles cut the call. “This is the first date you guys have broken?”

Stiles nodded.

“Talk about dedication,” Scott said, “Considering Derek’s work hours.”

Stiles shrugged. “It’s just always worked out, but it was bound to happen. So, what’s for dinner?”

* * *

 _“–but I can’t get the wings right,”_ Ben whined.

Stiles chuckled. “I’ll drop by the house tomorrow and help you. How’s that?”

 _“Cool!”_ Ben cheered. _“Just you? Dr. Derek isn’t coming?”_

Stiles flushed a little. It pleased him that Ben warmed up so quickly to the idea of him and Derek. “Just me. Derek’s pretty busy, but I’ll tell him you said hi.”

_“Ok. And oh yeah! I talked to Fran and Richard last night. Fran might not come home for Thanksgiving. I think she’s going to go with Richard’s family. That’s nice, right?”_

“Yeah, I talked to Fran this morning about it,” Stiles said. “Even if it kinda sucks, I hope it goes well for Fran. She really likes Richard.”

 _“I know they’ll like her. Fran is awesome!”_   Ben cheered. His voice dropped to a whisper. _“Robbie wasn’t really happy about it though.”_

“Robbie doesn’t like any of Fran’s boyfriends. You know how he is,” Stiles scoffed. “I have to go now. I’ll call you later. Love you, Benny-boy.”

_“Love you!”_

Stiles cut the call as he padded towards his room.

Stiles wasn’t vain. He knew what he looked like so he wasn’t really one for primping and fussing over himself, but he did want to look nice, especially for Derek. Now that he was dating someone, Stiles finally appreciated Fran’s endless lectures on color coordination and styling. He was in the middle of buttoning up his shirt when his phone buzzed.

 _ **From:** Derek_  
_**Message:** I am so so so so so sorry. Still at the hospital. Emergency departmental meeting._

Oh.

This was the _fourth_ date they’ve broken so far. In a row. Derek’s work seemed to have just suddenly piled up.

 _ **From:** Stiles_  
_**Message:** its ok. not like u planned this._

Stiles looked at his half-buttoned shirt. He pulled it off his head and tossed it on the bed.

 _ **From:** Derek_  
_**Message:** I swear I’ll make it up to you._

 _ **From:** Stiles_  
_**Message:** not d first and not d last date to break, remember?_

Stiles bit his lip.

 _ **From:** Stiles_  
_**Message:** but u’l call me after?_

 _ **From:** Derek_  
_**Message:** Yes, I promise._

Stiles tucked his phone in his pants pocket with a sigh. He grabbed a grey hoodie and his backpack. No sense wasting the day. He took a few books with him and walked out of the apartment.

* * *

Stiles cleared away the wilted orange blossoms and the camellias and replaced them with a small bouquet of violets. He smiled as he brushed a hand at the tombstone.

“Hey mom,” he said. “I haven’t talked to you in a while.”

Then again, Stiles never really talked whenever he visited, just dropped the flowers off and whisper a prayer before leaving. He wasn’t the type to talk to gravestones. He much preferred believing his mother was with him and watching him all the time, though that was probably a tall order what with Claudia having five children. But he liked to believe she was with all of them all the time.

“I’m good, very good actually,” Stiles said. “But I think this time Fran will probably need you more than me. I hope Richard’s family likes her.”

Stiles thought of telling her about Derek. She was probably watching the two of them, but part of him felt like he should tell her what he felt about the other man. His mother had been aware of his sexuality since he was sixteen and while she was more than accepting, she hadn’t had the chance to meet anybody of significance in his life.

And Derek was slowly but surely making his way to being one of the most significant.

“You know how it goes in soap operas, mom,” Stiles said. “But it’s not scary. I mean, it is, but Derek’s been amazing to me. I know you know he has been. I’m happy. Too happy, actually. That part’s a bit scarier.”

He smiled, running his fingers against the engraving once more before walking back to his jeep.

* * *

Ms. Grant fluttered about the kitchen to get some treats as Stiles settled down on a high-backed chair in her studio with his feet tucked under him. Ms. G’s studio was twice as large as Stiles’s entire apartment. There were two large windows, letting in the cool autumn breeze, a few large bookshelves, long tables along the walls, and drawers and shelves containing art materials. The walls contained many artworks by Ms. G herself, but it was also littered with pictures of family members, friends, students, and artworks from fellow artists. Stiles saw a few of his hanging up there. He hoped he would have his own art studio like this in the future.

“Have you read up on the books I got you, my dear?” Ms. Grant asked as she settled back in her seat, placing the tray of biscuits and fruit on the table. She was as relaxed as ever, her grey hair tied into a loose ponytail, and dressed in a blouse and soft pants.

“I have,” Stiles said. He grabbed his backpack, pulling out two of the books inside. “I got two with me right now, ‘The Animator’s Survival Kit’ and ‘Paper Dreams: The Art and Artists of Disney Storyboards’. I think you’re trying to tell me something.”

Ms. G smiled. “Has the message gotten across? Because I figured I would help ease you along in your art, my dear.”

Stiles scratched his head. “Well, I just… animation, Ms. G? Me?”

Ms. G shrugged. “I don’t see why not. Most of your works have been of characters and your active imagination allows you to make wonderful stories. You have a very good command of an audience, able to offer works that cater to any ages. I daresay it’s right up your alley, my Genim.” She smiled.

Stiles blushed, straightening his glasses. “That’s very nice of you to say, Ms. G.” He grabbed his backpack and made to stuff the books back in. “I mean, animation is interesting but I don’t really see a reason to concentrate on a field right now. I’m not– Oh shi–shoot!”

Stiles bit back a curse when the zipper on his bag gave way and the insides of his backpack tumbled out, his sketchbook, a notebook, his two pencil cases, his filer, and the brown manila envelope from Scott which ended up falling open and scattering papers across the floor. He had forgotten that he left that last thing in his pack.

“I am so sorry!” Stiles said, trying to shove everything back in.

“No problem, dear,” Ms. G said. She leaned down to scoop up some of the papers. Once she had them all gathered with her, she took a look at them.

Stiles had gotten everything back into his backpack, zipping it up with a grunt, and turned to his art mentor. He only then noticed that Ms. G was silent.

“…Ms. G?”

She snapped out of it and looked at him, and then back at the brochures.

“My Genim,” she started softly. “Have you… I mean to say… are you going to… I know you haven’t…” She spoke slowly. “Does this mean you are… finally considering applying to art school?” She knew about Stiles’ indecision to go to art school, but she didn’t know the reason why.

Ms. G gave him a look that was both hopeful and curious. “You know I am very much hoping that you continue on to art school, my Genim. You have been nothing but adamant about pursuing art since you were very young.”

“I am. I do. I mean,” Stiles said, shaking his head and almost dislodging his glasses. “I do want to, but this is… This was all from Scott and he also thought… I could… I mean…”

“Have you changed your mind?” she asked. “Are you now considering…”

She looked so hopeful, bordering on proud, that Stiles could only say. “Maybe. I hope?”

Ms. G smiled, so wide and happy. “I had assumed…” She paused, trailing off into a delighted laugh. “That is wonderful. I am so happy for you, my dear.”

“I’m just… um… thank you,” Stiles said, his voice sounded weak even to his own ears.

“This comes at a perfect time,” Ms. G said, clapping her hands.

“To what?”

“A friend of mine asked me to headline an art exhibit, a bit of a charity affair as well,” Ms. G said, already excited. “It will be my first in two years and I have been thinking of inviting some of my students to join me. I was already planning on inviting you, but now this would be the perfect avenue for you to showcase your talent. It would be no trouble at all to invite some friends and acquaintances, though I do hope you can come to me a little early on once you’ve decided where to apply so I can make arrangements. You know you can count on my support.”

This wouldn’t be Stiles’ first, second, or even eighth time to join an exhibit, but this was too much. She was too much. He stood up, almost jostling the table.

“I… um… I’ll think about it, Ms. G. I really will. Thanks for the snacks. And er, the invitation. I’ll drop by again soon.”

Stiles gathered his things. He kissed Ms. Grant on the cheek and ran off, waving over his shoulder. When he got to the Jeep, Stiles just threw the manila envelope at the back not caring at how it burst open and everything got scattered along the floor. He tossed his glasses on the passenger seat and took a deep breath.

Fuck. He hated this.

It wasn’t like he didn’t want to go to art school.

He gritted his teeth.

He just… couldn’t.

Not yet.

* * *

Stiles killed the engine and got out of the jeep, one hand holding a plastic bag. He rubbed his eyes under his glasses and sighed before jogging towards the hospital. He spent the rest of the day taking a drive around town before he ultimately decided to just go ahead to that bistro and get takeout for him and Derek.

Stiles checked his watch. It was a little past six that evening so Derek was probably just finishing up the last of his paperwork. Derek was probably extra moody by now. They could just stay at his office to eat if he was tired, or go back to Stiles’ apartment. Derek always seemed more at ease there. Or maybe they could go to the Hale House. Stiles hadn’t been there before. Then again, Erica and Isaac were there and Stiles didn’t want that.

As he walked across the parking lot, he spied Derek’s Camaro. He smiled to himself, remembering that night Derek sang to him and danced with him at the side of the road. He and Derek hadn’t had much alone time since then, what with Stiles’ studies and Derek’s work, so Stiles was really kind of itching for a repeat performance.

He paused, noticing a curious red convertible sitting beside Derek’s car. This was the first time he’d seen it. Being a cop’s kid, he was used to looking at cars and he was sure nobody in town drove anything like that. He shrugged and walked on.

Stiles was pleasantly surprised to see Derek standing in front of the hospital, briefcase on hand, still wearing his white coat, and frowning at his cellphone. Stiles paused when the hospital doors opened and a woman came rushing out, wearing a similar doctor’s coat. She approached Derek, grabbing the arm holding the phone, and tilting a smiling face up at him. They were suddenly engaged in conversation. Stiles couldn’t see Derek’s face from this angle.

Stiles knew almost every doctor, nurse, intern, orderly, and personnel in the hospital. She was definitely a new face. He wondered if she was the owner of that little red convertible. She and Derek obviously knew each other and they seemed close, judging by the limited personal space between them. Stiles wondered if she was a classmate of his back at Columbia U.

He started when his phone vibrated in his pocket. He had placed it on silent after receiving a few texts from Scott and Ms. Grant about the art school thing. Now it showed Derek.

***Incoming call: Derek***

Stiles cut the call and started making his way over. He hurried a little upon seeing Derek’s look of surprise at his now-silent phone and the frown marring his features. The woman grabbed the phone, holding it behind her back.

“Jennifer!”

The woman, Jennifer, laughed. “Oh, come on, Derek. Have a few drinks with me instead of whoever’s on–”

“I need to call someone,” Derek said. “Give me the phone.”

“Derek!” Stiles called out.

Derek literally jumped up in surprise. He whirled around as Jennifer glanced over his shoulder at Stiles, Derek’s phone still behind her. Derek’s face had a myriad of emotions, shocked, panicked, frustrated, relieved, and ecstatic all at the same time. Jennifer merely looked curiously at him.

Derek’s face settled on something akin to a mix of panic and elation.

Stiles waved a hand as he got nearer. “Surprise? I hope I’m not interrupting any–”

Before Stiles could finish, Derek had reached out, grabbing his forearm and pulling Stiles in. Derek’s mouth was quickly on him, all warm lips and rough stubble, the mix of hospital smell and Derek’s cologne invading his senses. The kiss was quick but firm and Stiles could feel the huff of breath against his face as Derek pulled away. Stiles knew it was one of his little I’m-happy-you’re-here-huffs.

“Hi,” Derek said softly, smiling. There was a sign of discomfort about him, but it was obvious he seemed happy to see him.

Stiles smiled back, trying to hide his flush, before he suddenly poked Derek on the forehead. “We’re in public, you goober. And your lady friend is watching.” He motioned to Jennifer, who was looking at them in a bit of surprise. “I’m totally throwing you under the bus if my dad gets on our case about public indecency.”

Derek chuckled. “That’s not the kind of impression I’m hoping to make to your dad.”

Despite that, he pulled Stiles closer by the waist and kissed his cheek just under his glasses. Stiles nudged him by the hip. He didn’t mind the affection but it felt odd for Derek to be this touchy-feely in front of somebody. Maybe it was because Derek knew her?

The woman, Jennifer, cleared her throat. She handed Derek back his phone and surged forward, offering a hand to Stiles.

“Jennifer Blake. Derek and I knew each other from Med school.”

“That’s nice,” Stiles said, glancing at Derek. Derek’s brow was furrowed and he looked like he was trying to keep a polite face. Stiles took Jennifer’s hand, a bit surprised at the firm grip.

“This is Stiles Stilinski,” Derek interjected. “My boyfriend.”

Stiles simply smiled, not minding the title the least bit. He was more worried about Derek, but he felt Derek hold his waist tightly and Stiles nodded politely to Jennifer.

“Are you here to visit Derek?”

Jennifer glanced between the two of them as she spoke, “No, I was invited by Dr. Jenkins to stay for a while as a visiting doctor.”

“Oh, welcome to Beacon Hills,” Stiles said, smiling.

Derek turned to him. “I was on my way to your apartment.”

“I thought I’d drop by and…” Stiles held up the plastic bag. “I got takeout from the bistro in case you’re free, but if you want to catch up with your friend, I don’t mind.”

“Why not, Der?” Jennifer asked, smirking. “Drinks? A little tour? A little… _fun_? Like old times?”

Stiles definitely winced at that. It would take an idiot not to get what that meant.

“No, thank you, Jennifer,” Derek said, rubbing a soothing hand along Stiles’ back. “Stiles and I have plans.”

Jennifer nodded, raising an eyebrow at Stiles. “Well, Derek, this is a bit of a surprise, honestly. Everybody back home says that you’ve gotten yourself a little boyfriend but I never thought…” She trailed off.

Stiles couldn’t help fidgeting at that and he could feel Derek stiffen. Back home for Derek meant New York. Then that meant someone was… talking about them?

“I’m happy here, that’s all there is to it,” Derek said.

Jennifer nodded slowly. “I can see that.” She smiled, giving Stiles an obvious once-over. “I thought it would be hard to find someone decent here in this little towny-town. You did leave a mess back home with me and Ka–”

“I’ll see you around, Jennifer,” Derek simply said. He wrapped an arm around Stiles, turning to him. “Let’s go?”

Stiles nodded, confused. “Um, yeah, sure…”

Jennifer simply grinned, watching Stiles as Derek led them away. “It was nice meeting you, Stiles. I’ll see you around.”

Stiles wasn't able to say anything before Derek herded him off.

* * *

From the time they parked the Camaro and the Jeep until they went up to Stiles’ apartment, Derek had been quiet. Stiles didn’t know what to make of that. He didn’t know much about Derek’s life during Med school. Jennifer Blake was the first thing he found out about.

Derek moved on instinct, toeing off his shoes and getting into his own set of slippers before carrying the plastic bag of food towards the living room. By the time Stiles followed, Derek had already turned on the TV and was getting the food out. He was still silent.

It wouldn’t do Stiles any good to spook Derek by asking. He just walked over and placed his hand on Derek’s shoulders, frowning when Derek stiffened. He rubbed both hands up and down his back, shoulders not really relaxing under his touch.

“No eating when you’re too wound up. Not only will we not be able to enjoy the meal, but I will be too worried about you.”

Derek turned to him, wrapping Stiles in his arms. Stiles let him, wrapping his arms under Derek’s to continue rubbing his back. They stood there for a while, Derek melting more and more into Stiles’ arms until Derek was humming something under his breath.

“Come on, you big teddy bear,” Stiles said, chuckling when Derek let out a soft growl under his breath.

Stiles let go of him and lied down on the couch. He raised his arms towards the curious Derek. “Come on.”

“What are you doing?” Derek asked.

“Like I said, no eating, not yet,” Stiles said. He tossed his glasses on the coffee table and kept his arms out. “Come here, you… teddy bear doesn’t fit. I’ll call you a big adorable wolf, all sharp teeth and angry demeanor, but a total cuddler underneath.”

Derek resisted for a few more seconds before leaning down. Stiles let him arrange himself however he wanted until Derek finally just laid fully on top of him, his face just at the junction of Stiles’ neck and shoulder and arms folded to cup his hands around Stiles’ shoulders.

“Mmm. This is nice,” Stiles mumbled.

Derek only hummed in agreement.

This wasn’t the first time they cuddled, not after Stiles found out Derek was a serial cuddler. However this was the first time in a few weeks and also the first time they ever lied down together.

Derek was a wall of muscle on top of him, just the right kind of heavy so as not to crush Stiles and also all warmth and a comforting smell that Stiles couldn’t help snuggling closer to him. Derek’s warm breath against his neck and cheek and Derek’s thumbs rubbing circles on his shoulders also added to the comfort.

“Hard day at work, I take it,” Stiles said. He didn’t wait for an answer. “I had a bit of a hard day today too–”

Derek stiffened again and made to move, but Stiles wrapped both arms around his shoulders, keeping him against his chest. Stiles talked over him.

“–with some things about school and art. I went to see Ms. G earlier, but it just gave me a headache after we talked about some stuff, so I took a drive. I drove around the edge of the preserve for a while and took a short walk, which was kind of awesome. I saw a couple of people walking around, but it was really peaceful. We should take a walk sometime.”

Stiles kept on rambling, talking about his walk around the preserve, his drive, going to the bistro to get food, and Clara, the pregnant waitress who was very sweet.

“I told Clara about you, you know,” Stiles said, walking his fingers along Derek’s broad back. Derek had stopped trying to get up, but his grip on Stiles’ shoulder didn’t really loosen. “She wants to meet you. I told her we’d swing by one time. She’s about five months along in her pregnancy, hoping for a girl.” He chuckled.

Derek shifted above him and Stiles stopped. Stiles’ felt Derek press a kiss against his neck.

“Stiles?” he asked quietly.

“Yeah, Derek?”

Derek was silent for a moment and Stiles waited patiently for him.

“I know I don’t talk about New York.”

“You will, when you feel like it,” Stiles simply said, “If you want to say something.”

Derek shook his head. “I do, but…”

“You don’t have to Der. It’s fine. I promise.” Stiles kissed his temple.

“Jennifer and I dated for a while,” Derek blurted out.

“I kinda figured.” Stiles simply nodded. “It’s ok. I had my share of relationships too. But that’s their loss and our gain, isn’t it?”

Derek’s grip tightened against Stiles’ shoulders. “Do you think I’ve been… neglectful?”

That was a bit off tangent, but Stiles almost laughed at the question. He held it back quickly.

“That is the most ridiculous thing ever, Derek Hale.” He reached up, tangling his fingers in Derek’s thick locks. “Never. You have been perfect. I know we broke a few dates–”

“All in a row,” Derek softly interjected. Stiles ignored that.

“But it’s ok. We’re here now, right?” Stiles asked softly.

“We had plans to go to that bistro, like a real date.”

Stiles chuckled. “Derek, there’s no such thing as a real date. We can have a real date at the hospital, at school, the next town over, my apartment, wherever. It’s fine.” He pressed a kiss to Derek’s temple. “It happens. You have work.”

Derek jerked and Stiles tightened his arms around him, keeping him in his arms.

“That’s not a reason!” he protested angrily. “I don’t want it to… You’re more important.”

Stiles pressed his smile against Derek’s cheek so Derek would feel it. “I’m glad you think so, but I know you love your work and it’s ok. If I had important art stuff and I asked if we could reschedule, you–”

“I wouldn’t mind,” Derek answered quickly.

“See? So it’s all good,” Stiles said. He loosened his hold, waiting for Derek to notice and when he did, he raised himself on his forearms to look down at Stiles with worried green eyes.

Stiles smiled, poking along the creases and worry lines on Derek’s brows and cheeks and mouth. “You’re a big worry wart, Derek. Watch those wrinkles.”

“Jennifer and I dated on and off for about two years in Med school,” Derek said softly. Stiles stopped laughing and watching him. Derek looked him in the eye, expression flitting between hesitant and determined.

“She was beautiful and smart and funny. She was strong and independent and I thought…”

He paused, shifting himself down so he could lay his head against Stiles’ chest. Stiles hand came up to run through his hair while Derek grabbed his other hand, twining their fingers. Stiles waited.

Derek continued with a soft voice . “She got accepted into Massachusetts General for her residency and left without telling me. I… I was heartbroken and couldn’t get over it and the next thing I knew, I was at the airport with a one-way ticket to go see her. Kali, a friend of hers, saw me at the airport and told me not to go through with it, told me Jennifer was never serious about me. I knew Jennifer dated around throughout the years, but I guess I thought there was really something between us.”

“Did you…” Stiles hesitated. “Did you love her?”

“I don’t know. I think I did,” Derek said and Stiles could hear sincerity in his answer. “Jennifer was never really interested in something long-term. Even I knew that, but she always came back and I lasted the longest out of all the guys she dated so I guess I thought…”

Stiles scratched lightly against Derek’s scalp and Derek grew a bit more lax against him.

“Jennifer came back to New York about a few months after,” Derek continued. “Massachusetts didn’t quite work out and she was given a slot in the hospital where I was working.”

Stiles couldn’t help tightening his hold on Derek. “Did she… I mean, was she… you…”

“I knew better by then,” Derek said. “And Laura was constantly reminding me. By that time, Isaac had come into my life.”

Stiles’ curiosity was piqued, but he kept it under control.

“With Isaac to look after, I realized I wasn’t that type of guy,” Derek said softly and his hold on Stiles’ hand tightened even more. “I wasn’t the type of person who just dated around so I broke it off with her… in a way.”

“In a way?” Stiles asked.

Derek tucked his face against Stiles’ chest. “I stopped answering her calls, avoided going to places where I knew she was going to be, and didn’t talk to Kali and her other friends. If she ever cornered me, I said no or I just walked away. In hindsight, I guess it wasn’t the best and most mature thing to do, but she did it to me and I guess I was being petty thinking I didn’t have to break up with her because there wasn’t anything to break.”

“Then Erica came and, looking after her and Isaac was the most important thing. I hooked up with Kate, a barista I met. It lasted a few nights and I apologized to her for the lapse in judgment. I guess I missed being physical with someone.” Derek sighed but Stiles gave him a placating smile. It was fine and not really something surprising. “A week later, Kate broke into my apartment, threatened Erica and punched Isaac in the face. Turned out she wasn’t quite all right in the head. Things got even worse after stories came around that Jennifer strung me along and I had to have a restraining order against Kate after she kept stalking me.”

Stiles winced.

“When I got an offer here in Beacon Hills, I left. Laura kept up with the news about everybody back home, like some of my closest friends who I told about it were all cool with it, how some of my old uni mates weren’t surprised I’d get away from all that bad press, that Laura made sure Kate’s restraining order extended to Beacon Hills, and that Jennifer was pretty shocked, though I think that was because I was the first one to actually leave her for good and not the other way around.”

Derek sighed. “Anyway, it was all a mess.”

“That’s why you don’t talk about it,” Stiles said softly.

Derek propped himself up on an arm and looked down at him.

Stiles reached up to smooth Derek’s face. He bit his lip. “So that’s why you’ve been… how you are with me? Like worrying all the time and always asking what I want? Not that I… but are you… being careful?”

Derek nodded hesitantly. “I wanted my life here to be quiet and the first time I met you, you were…”

“The first time we met was during Ben’s accident, when he skinned his knee,” Stiles said, laughing. He could remember that day. “I was panicking like mad. I’m pretty sure I cried too. That wasn’t really very attractive.”

“You love Ben and when you thanked me you meant it, even if all I did was patch up his knee,” Derek said, smiling fondly. “Your whole face was red but when you smiled, I… it was beautiful.”

Stiles flushed. Trust Derek to say something like that, like he wanted to say it just because he could, like it was a fact.

Such a romantic goober.

Stiles sat up, pushing Derek up as well until they were seated across from each other.

“You know you don’t have to be careful with me, right? You don’t have to like the stuff I like or hate the stuff I don’t like. You can be angry with me if I did something, or not to talk to me if you don’t feel like talking, or talk to me if you do, or… You know you can be you, right? When you’re with me? We’re good, right?”

Derek had looked more and more shocked at everything Stiles said until he just grabbed Stiles around the middle and kissed him, hard and sure on the mouth, hands fisting against Stiles’ back. Stiles kissed him back, channeling back the same emotions.

“I’ve been more myself with you than anyone. And we’re good, really good.” Derek nodded. “And you can be the same. With me.” He suddenly chuckled. “What am I saying, you’ve always been you when you’re with me. I’m the one who’s lacking.”

“You’re not,” Stiles insisted, pouting. “I know you’re holding back, but I get that. And tonight you did open up to me. I’m not patient on a lot of stuff, but I can wait.”

Derek cupped his face in his hands and Stiles felt himself drowning at the intensity in his eyes. When Derek kissed him, it was with a smolder that flowed from Stiles’ tongue and burst down his spine until Stiles was curling his bare toes against the couch cushion. And when Derek sucked his tongue with that teasing suction, Stiles moaned long and hard against Derek’s mouth. Derek swallowed the sound greedily, his tongue licking and tasting Stiles.

Stiles’ arms came around Derek’s neck as Derek bodily lifted him onto his lap. They had to break apart as Stiles pushed Derek back against the couch so he could rearrange his limbs to straddle him. After that, Derek was on him in an instant, mouth hot and wet against Stiles’ neck.

“Shit, Derek.” Stiles convulsed a little as Derek nipped a path from his Adam’s apple to his clavicle, his tongue darting out at the tail-end of each bite like the most delicious physical after-effect. Stiles fisted one hand at the back of Derek’s shirt as the tingling sensation bloomed and flowed down to his lower body.

Stiles pushed Derek back, pulling him up with a grip on his hair, and pressed their mouths together again, slotting like a jig and a saw that fit together sweetly. Derek’s large hands were rubbing up and down along his back and Stiles’ breath caught in his throat when Derek slowly pulled the back of his hoodie up, letting his palms rest against the bare skin.

“Is this ok?” Derek asked.

Stiles nodded, pushing against him until Derek was leaning against the back of the couch, his entire torso stretched and ready for Stiles and Derek’s hands warm along his lower back. Stiles shifted forward, noticing the press of their crotches, but ignoring it in favor of getting his hands to start unbuttoning Derek’s shirt.

“Is this ok?” Stiles asked, grinning wryly.

Derek chuckled and licked his reddened lips. “Of course.”

Stiles stared greedily as each unbuttoning opened up more and more of Derek. He paused as far as the waist where Derek’s shirt was still tucked into his pants, watching the seductive splay of his opened shirt on either side of his bare and muscled torso.

“Shit.” Stiles murmured.

He leaned forward, absolutely attacking Derek. He spread hot wet kisses all along his upper chest, licking a stripe along the middle and delighting at Derek’s full-body shudder. Derek groaned, long and loud and Stiles was absolutely grateful for having his own living quarters right now. Derek shifted his legs, pressing his half hard crotch against Stiles thigh. Stiles bent low, pressing a kiss against Derek’s nipple, grinning when the older male moaned.

“Stiles, god. Your mouth.”

Stiles licked and nipped the bud, one hand skating up Derek’s chest to brush against the other one. Stiles kept licking and playing and switched to the other one, until Derek was letting out little hums of pleasure, stroking Stiles’ lower back as he did so. Stiles leaned back, licking his lips and stroked his hands along Derek’s ribs and abs.

“You are ridiculously attractive. Seriously,” Stiles complimented. He giggled when Derek flushed in pleasure.

Derek growled playfully and grabbed him, claiming his mouth in a playful and filthy kiss. Stiles could only hold on as Derek attacked his mouth, baiting his tongue and nibbling against his bottom lip. Derek ducked down and gently bit Stiles’ chin, making Stiles yelp and giggle, and made a path down his neck.

“Hoodie. Hoodie. Hoodie.” Stiles repeated, raising his arms and letting Derek slip the material up and off, leaving him half-naked. Derek had a greedy look to him and when Stiles tried to cover himself, Derek held fast to his wrists.

“It’s not like you haven’t seen me without my shirt before,” Stiles chuckled weakly. “There was the school and the night of the play. That was twice in the same day.”

“The first was just your stomach and the second one was at nighttime so I didn’t get to see enough of you,” Derek said, scanning his entire torso. “You have so many moles.” Without warning, he ducked towards one in the middle of Stiles’ chest, pressing a kiss against the skin. He moved, placing kisses on his wake, as if he could kiss every single one. Stiles had a feeling Derek would if given the time. Derek used his other hand to drum his fingers along Stiles’ spine.

Derek, ever the romantic, murmured dark and heady against Stiles’ skin. “I know I don’t tell you this but you’re the one who’s been perfect, who’s been amazing to me.” He kissed the moles scattered along his left pectoral. “You’re beautiful and smart.” Just below his arm. “You’re talented and wonderful.” Shifted Stiles to kiss the small one on his hip. “You make me laugh. More than I’ve ever did before.” His shoulder. “You make me smile.” Just under his right arm.

Stiles whimpered under the pleasurable onslaught. The warmth and sweetness of the moment was thick in the air and Derek didn’t seem to have any plans of stopping as he kissed and stroked every inch of him.

Derek leaned up to Stiles’ ear, whispering, “You make me really happy.”

Stiles felt happiness blossom through his body and he cupped Derek’s face in his hands, kissing him gently.

God, he was so in love with him.

Stiles felt Derek’s hands slip lower on his back until they’re cupping his ass and Stiles rocked his hips encouragingly, keening when their clothed erections met. Both of them were hard as hell and with the look on Derek’s face, it was obvious they both wanted this.

They had a rhythm going between them soon enough, Derek’s hand on Stiles’ ass guiding the motions as Stiles widened his stance and used his knees as leverage to grind his crotch hard against Derek’s. Stiles had one hand tangled with Derek’s hair while his other hand was splayed out across Derek’s chest. Derek’s head was tilted back and Stiles was leaning down towards his face, their mouths brushing together in half-kisses as they rocked together. Stiles couldn’t help the whine that erupted with each hard thrust.

“Not enough,” Stiles murmured. Derek nodded, a jerky movement of his head that had their wet lips sliding together.

Stiles let go of Derek, giving him placating little pecks on the mouth when Derek whined at the loss of contact. Stiles unbuttoned his jeans in a flash and Derek helped him pull down his jeans and briefs. Stiles couldn’t help sighing in relief. He didn’t stop and went on to unbutton Derek’s, gently pulling him out from his boxers. Derek was thicker where Stiles was longer and he was uncut and Stiles could only lick his lips at how hard and leaking he was.

Derek suddenly placed one warm palm against one of Stiles’ ass cheeks, Stiles shuddering from the contact, and watched Derek lick his broad palm. When Derek takes Stiles’ cock in his hand, Stiles bucked hard, back arching.

“I was still looking!” Stiles protested. When Derek laughed, he pouted. “The next time we do this, I am gonna stare at your dick for five full minutes and you’re not allowed to do anything about it.”

Derek stroked his cock a tad bit faster, twisting his wrists a little at the end, making Stiles groan and buck his hips forward some more, Derek’s hand on his ass guiding the motion. When Derek slid Stiles’ own precome along the shaft and tightened his hand in that perfect grip, Stiles absolutely whimpered.

“God, I love you like this,” Derek whispered. “Didn’t think I’d see it but now I want it. Every. Day.”

Stiles could feel Derek’s grin against his lips and he opened the eyes he didn’t realize he closed to see Derek’s lust-filled gaze. His gaze was unwavering on Stiles’ face as he stroked Stiles, who rocked his hips with the motion. Stiles gripped hard on Derek’s shoulders, nails digging in. When Derek sped up his hand, Stiles cried out and bared his neck. Derek latched onto it, all teeth with soft bites. With every stroke, Derek rubbed his thumb along the sensitive head and Stiles could feel the liquid warmth skittering along his insides before they slowly concentrated on his groin.

“Derek, I… I can’t… shit… this is embarrassingly fast…”

Derek let out what could only be a growl and stroked faster, reaching out under Stiles’ ass with his other hand to drag playful fingers teasingly against Stiles’ balls. Stiles rocked his hips forward, more, harder, his thighs trembling at the exertion, the sounds of their harsh breathing all he could hear.

Stiles let out a cry as he came, back arching sharply and his arms wrapping around Derek’s shoulders. It was like a long wave of pleasure inside him trying to burst out all at once and it made his head swim as Derek kept on stroking his cock, long and slow, only stopping once Stiles let out a little whine of protest from oversensitivity.

Stiles bent forward, resting his forehead on Derek’s shoulder as he tried to get his breathing back. He looked down, only then noticing that there was twice the amount of sticky come between them. Stiles nuzzled his nose against Derek’s cheek, who was taking deep breaths.

“Did you…”

Derek chuckled, slightly bashful. “Yeah.”

Stiles grinned, kissing him on the cheek and whispering, “I promise to return the favor.”

They stayed there for a little while to catch their breaths before Stiles slowly untangled himself from Derek and stood on shaky knees.

In half an hour, they’ve cleaned themselves up and taken a quick shower. Stiles was in pajama bottoms and a shirt while Derek had changed into one of Stiles’ sweatpants and the Henley Derek lent Stiles the night of the play that Stiles had forgotten on purpose to return. They reheated some of the takeout and were settled in front of the television, Stiles’ legs stretched out over Derek’s thighs as they dug in.

Conversation came easy, as it always did between them, about university and work and family and relationships.

“The past three years were mostly about my mom,” Stiles said as he poked his beef. “I’ve been on and off with a few people, but I’ve only been in one serious relationship before this one.”

“Relationship,” Derek mumbled. He grinned. “Making you orgasm makes it official?”

“Part of it,” Stiles said teasingly. “Mostly it comes from how you’re the only one I want to and plan on seeing naked for a long while, and also the one I plan on sharing all these takeout calories with.”

Derek laughed at that, happy and pleased.

Derek opened up a little more about New York, how he loved the city and the people, but how part of him had also loved the quiet of the countryside and the appeal of a small and homey town like Beacon Hills, how he made good money working back at New York but hated how everyone was a bit too impersonal or too aloof, not like everyone in Beacon Hills who knew one another.

“You can talk to Isaac and Erica,” Derek said quietly during a lull in the conversation. “They’d tell you about us, about how they came to stay with me. Our situation back at New York and my messed up personal life didn’t really allow them to make friends. I think they’ve always wanted to tell someone.”

“Part of me is itching to find out to be honest,” Stiles said. “I’ll talk to them and they can tell me if they want to.”

After the meal and finding a movie they both liked, they settled into the couch. The apartment was pleasantly warm and they stretched out on the couch like earlier but now with Stiles half on top of Derek, their legs tangled together and their twined hands resting on Derek’s chest.

“Stay the night?” Stiles asked softly.

He looked up to see a pleased little flush blossom on Derek’s cheeks. He nodded, ducking down to press a soft lingering kiss on Stiles’ lips. “I’d like that.”

Stiles smiled and settled against Derek’s chest.

In no time at all, they were both asleep.

* * *

Stiles woke up to a rather annoying buzzing sound. He opened his eyes and lifted his head, slightly disoriented. The TV was still on and it was still dark outside. There was a soft groan and Stiles looked up, squinting at the face above him. Derek looked down and their sleepy eyes met.

“Is it morning already?” Derek asked, smiling.

“Not yet, gorgeous,” Stiles said, chuckling. “But we fell asleep on the couch.”

Stiles let out a surprised squeak when Derek slowly pulled him up against him until he could bury his face in Stiles’ neck.

“Mm,” Derek nodded. “Comfortable.”

Stiles glanced up at the wall clock. It was just before midnight. They’ve only been asleep for an hour.

There was the buzzing sound again and it took Stiles a second in between Derek’s nosing at his neck to realize it was a phone.

“Is that your phone?” Stiles asked, sighing. He pushed himself up with one hand, rubbing sleep from his eyes. Derek’s watch and phone were on the other armchair. He scrambled over Derek to grab the phone, letting out a yelp when Derek’s hand sneaked in under Stiles’ shirt.

“I’m allowed to touch. Don’t ruin it for me,” Derek muttered.

Stiles laughed and practically shoved Derek’s phone in his face. It started ringing again.

Derek leaned up, kissing Stiles' cheek as they righted themselves. Stiles grabbed the containers of takeout as Derek checked his messages. Stiles had just thrown everything in the trash when he saw Derek suddenly jerk upright.

“Shit!” Derek turned to him, eyes wide. “Stiles, where’s your phone?”

Stiles frowned. “In my room. I charged it.”

Derek was only half-listening. He had already grabbed his pants and was putting them on.

“Derek?” Stiles looked at him. Derek had his doctor face on, but it was more intense. “What’s wrong?”

“Stiles, I got a call from the hospital.” Derek looked ashen. “Your Dad and Jill…”

Stiles felt his entire world suddenly collapse in on itself.

* * *

The ride to the hospital was a blur.

That was what Stiles wanted to say.

But it wasn’t.

He could remember it perfectly well, how he just about ripped off his clothes and scrambled into a pair of pants and a decent shirt while Derek grabbed their stuff, how he followed wordlessly while Derek herded him out the door to the Camaro, how he checked his phone while Derek drove quick but careful.

There were a few texts and a few voice messages and more than a dozen missed calls from Robbie. He called him back.

_“Stiles! I’ve been calling you!”_

And that was probably the thing that really made Stiles realize this was happening. That Robbie, who was always the calmest of them all, sounded panicked and worried.

“God, I’m so sorry! I didn’t have my phone with me! Derek got a call from the hospital. Where are you?”

 _“Already here. I got a call from one of dad’s deputies.”_ He lowered his voice. _“Ben’s been crying like mad and goddammit he’s had two panic attacks already.”_

It was only then that Stiles heard a crying Ben in the background.

Robbie cursed. _“Shit! Ben, come here, buddy.”_

The phone call got cut off.

“Oh my God, Ben. Oh my God.”

With each word, Stiles could feel his throat and lungs constricting. He sat there, mumbling incoherently and taking deep breaths. Stiles jerked in surprise at the hand around his wrist. Derek had his eyes on the road, but he held Stiles’ wrist tightly. Stiles twined their fingers together.

“I’m fine, Derek. I’m good.” Stiles took a few more deep breaths. “But Ben and Robbie are already at the hospital and Ben’s having a panic attack.” He tightened his grip on Derek’s hand, keeping his breathing calm and level.

Derek’s face looked near-blank and professional, except for the worry in his eyes whenever he glanced at Stiles and squeezed his hand reassuringly.

“Thank God he’s at the hospital, but does he often get them? How bad?”

Stiles shook his head. “The last one I can remember was about three months ago. He knows how to do his breathing exercises and calm down. It doesn’t happen often. God.” He rubbed his face. “Do you know what happened?” Stiles asked, voice shaking.

“I don’t know all of it, but they said it was a car accident,” Derek said.

Stiles couldn’t help the sob that escaped his lips and let go of Derek to smash both palms against his eyes. He took several steadying breaths.

They arrived at the hospital and Derek pulled in at his designated parking spot easily. Stiles grabbed Derek’s hand and they hurried towards the doors, Derek leading him straight for the emergency room.

The first thing Stiles saw were his brothers huddled together in one of the seats. It wasn’t big enough for both of them, but Ben was seated sideways in Robbie’s lap with his legs hanging over the edge. They had their foreheads pressed together. Robbie was whispering constantly to Ben’s ear and even from a distance, he could see Ben’s hands were shaking. Stiles’ heart almost broke at the sight as he rushed towards them.

Ben and Robbie looked up as Stiles kneeled in front of them and took Ben’s shaking hands in his.

“Stiles,” Ben mumbled. He looked tired, eyes red, face streaked with dried tears, and his breathing labored. He reached out and Stiles took him in his lap, sitting at the other chair beside Robbie.

“Hi buddy. I’m here now,” Stiles said, rubbing his back comfortingly. He looked at Robbie. “Are you ok, Rob?”

Robbie nodded. He looked tired and his smile was a little strained, but he was obviously relieved to see him.

Doctor Jennifer Blake appeared from behind the doors, a smidge of blood on her scrubs suit. The sight of it made Ben jerk in Stiles’ arms. Stiles held him tightly, shushing him with soft tones.

“Derek! Thank God you’re here! Could you scrub in on surgery?”

“Of course,” Derek said.

“Derek,” Stiles called out, unable to help the way his voice wavered at the end. “Dad… and Jill…”

Derek bustled over, the hint of a tender smile under his doctor’s face, and kissed him gently on the mouth. “We’ll do our best.”

Stiles nodded, leaning up for one last kiss before Derek walked off, following Jennifer behind the door.

Stiles let out a shaky breath, closing his eyes and wrapping his arms around Ben.

* * *

Robbie and Ben had been left at home while their Dad picked up Jill from a study group with her friends that lasted until a little past eleven o’clock. They were on their way home when the driver of a minivan dozed off on the wheel and broadsided the cruiser, sending both cars careening off the road. One of the deputies was nearby and managed to call for an ambulance.

Robbie was talking to one of the nurses, answering questions about their Dad and Jill while Stiles had a shaky Ben in his lap who had just calmed down from another panic attack, when Scott burst in despite it being already half-past midnight. He was in jeans but was still in one of his ratty sleep shirts and his hair was a mess.

“Bro, I got a call from Mom!” Scott looked worried and he tossed himself down beside Stiles. Scott then leaned towards Ben, rubbing a hand on his head comfortingly. With his other hand, he petted the back of Stiles’ head.

“Hi, Ben-buddy,” Scott greeted the tired looking boy.

“Hi, Scott,” Ben mumbled, smiling tiredly.

“How is it?” Scott asked Stiles.

“No word yet,” Stiles said softly. He looked at Robbie, who was still talking to the nurse.

“I’m sure it’ll be fine,” Scott stated simply. He opened his arms to Ben. “And as for you, bud, we can’t have more panic attacks. You can stay with me for a bit so Stiles and Robbie can talk. That cool with you?”

Ben had always adored Scott and he nodded, scrambling to tuck himself against the other male.

This was what Scott meant by them being soulmates. Stiles looked at him gratefully, mouthed a ‘thank you’, and stood up on slightly cramped legs, moving over to Robbie.

“Hi Nurse Cam,” Stiles said. “How is it in there?”

Nurse Cam gave them a sympathetic smile. “The doctors are doing everything they can, boys. That’s all I can say.” She nodded and walked off.

Robbie ran his hands through his hair in frustration and let out a ragged breath. “God.”

“Sit down. You look dead on your feet, bro. Want me to get us something to drink?” Stiles rubbed his brother’s shoulder as Robbie shook his head. Stiles paused. “By the way, have you called Fran?”

Robbie shook his head. “No. We both don’t know a thing yet, so it’s better to wait. She’ll just worry.”

Stiles nodded and tugged Robbie off to a bench.

A few minutes later, Ben was curled up on a chair asleep with a blanket around him that Scott managed to get from one of the nurses. The three of them were now seated on a bench, waiting not-so-patiently.

Stiles checked his phone, finally deciding to look at the messages. Some of the more recent text messages were from Scott and Robbie, then some from his father, and some more from Scott and a few from Ms. Grant. He also had a few voice mails, many of them from Robbie. He deleted some of Robbie’s panicked text messages.

 _ **From:** Ms. G_  
_**Message:** I’ll email you the details of the art exhibit. Thank you darling and I’m proud of you._

There were a few more from her which he ignored. He wasn’t in the mood to even think of this stuff.

He checked his voicemail. Some were from Robbie and three were from his Dad. Stiles stood up, walked off to a private corner, and listened to the very first one.

_“Hey son. Just… (cough) Um. I… I didn’t want to… not on the phone but… I mean, I bumped into Ms. Grant. And she… er, she… She mentioned that you… I think she might have slipped up to be honest but she sounded so ecstatic. She said you were considering… um… again… to go to art school. I know you haven’t–”_

Stiles’ throat tightened. The voice call got cut off and Stiles’ hands shook as he listened to the next one.

_“Sorry. (cough) It’s been more than three years since you... with Mom… I mean (huff) I know you used to talk to your Mom about this. She’s always been the one you talked to about art and stuff and I know you’ve… I know last year was a mess for you. For all of us. But I hope you can… you know, you can tell me and–”_

It got cut off again and the last one was shorter and simpler.

_“I just wanted to tell you how proud I am of you. I always am. And Mom would be too. I know she would. No matter what you choose. We love you son.”_

Stiles leaned against the wall and slid down, tucking himself into a small ball.

He let himself cry it off.

* * *

Robbie and Scott didn’t say anything about Stiles’ teary eyes when he came back, and Stiles sat down between them, leaning a little against his older brother and letting Scott pat him on the forearm comfortingly.

“Mom!” Scott jumped up as Mrs. McCall came in through the doors, looking worried.

“Mrs. McCall,” Robbie choked out as they stood up. “How are they?”

Melissa smiled, but it was bittersweet.

“The good news is that Jill is faring better,” she started, her voice clinical and straight to the point. “She had a dislocated shoulder, a wound to the side of the head that needed stitches, and a lot of cuts from the glass. There’s a possible concussion, but we can’t determine it yet until she regains consciousness. There are no signs of internal bleeding, but we will keep monitoring her. Overall though, she’s stabilized.”

They only let out half their breaths.

“And Dad?” Stiles asked.

Mrs. McCall was honest but gentle. “Your father had it worse off since he was seated on the side the minivan hit. We’re looking at damages mostly to his left side, a fracture to his tibia and a sprained wrist. Two broken ribs, but thank goodness it didn’t pierce any major internal organs, and a lot of cuts and a lot of glass. He regained consciousness for only a few seconds, but there’s also a definite concussion. There’s also a concern of internal bleeding. I’m sorry to say he’s still not out of the woods yet.”

“Dammit,” Robbie muttered.

“Is Derek, I mean, Dr. Hale…” Stiles paused. He wasn’t exactly sure what he wanted to ask.

Mrs. McCall gave him a curious, but understanding and gentle look. “The doctors are doing everything they can and Derek is being very careful, Stiles. Don’t worry.”

Stiles bit his lip and nodded.

Mrs. McCall kissed all three of them on the cheeks and went back inside.

“Robbie?”

Ben was sitting up and looking scared. They weren’t sure how much he heard. Robbie sat down with him, cuddling him to his chest.

“Dad’s gonna be fine, right?” Ben whispered, voice cracking.

“They’re doing their best, buddy,” Robbie said.

“And Mrs. McCall said Doctor Derek’s being careful… so Dad… He won’t…” Ben’s eyes were closing but still growing teary. Robbie looked to Ben.

Stiles leaned down, kissing his cheek. “Derek’s doing his best.”

Robbie rocked Ben back and forth, murmuring words of comfort. In no time at all, Ben was back asleep. Robbie wrapped the blanket around him. He turned to Stiles.

“Derek, huh,” Robbie said, chuckling softly.

Stiles flushed a little, rubbing his face. He didn’t have his glasses on, but thank goodness his vision wasn’t that bad. Robbie was smiling knowingly and Scott nudged him on the shoulder. He knew they were all just looking to talk about something to take their mind of things, and it wasn’t like Stiles had anything to hide, especially after how everyone saw him and the doctor kissing.

Stiles nodded.

Scott let out a whoop. One of the nurses shushed him. “Oops. Sorry, ma’am.” Stiles and Robbie laughed.

“You two…” Robbie trailed off. He gave Stiles a serious look.

“We’re together, Robbie, yes,” Stiles said.

Robbie grinned. “Good for you, bro. Not that we didn’t already know you two were dating, but good to hear it’s official. Thought it’d take forever.”

Scott leaned over. “You two done it yet?”

Robbie let out a strangled cough, almost waking up Ben, while Stiles cuffed Scott on the back of the head.

“What?” Scott whined, wrapping his arms around his head. “I was just curious!”

Robbie looked like he just swallowed a lemon. “While I have no problems with my brother’s preferences and we all know Stiles is way past being a vir…” He paused, looking down at the sleeping Ben in his lap. “…you know what, this isn’t something I really want to hear about him.”

“This means no, right?” Scott sighed but Stiles knew that look in his eyes.

Stiles glared at him. “You’re in on that ongoing bet with Jackson and Boyd, aren’t you?”

“Course not!” Scott scoffed. “Why would I? I’m just really happy for you and…” Stiles narrowed his eyes. Scott caved easily. “…Fine.” He sighed. “I might be.”

“What the hell are you even betting on? How the hell are they even finding things to bet about? And why me?” Stiles whined.

“Because it still kinda shocks everyone that you’re Derek’s type,” Scott shrugged.

Stiles gaped and punched Scott on the shoulder. He turned to Robbie. “You’re not even going to defend my honor?”

“I would if I wasn’t also wondering about that,” Robbie said, smirking.

“You guys suck,” Stiles muttered.

* * *

Half an hour later, Scott was dozing on the bench, Ben’s head in his lap. Robbie decided to call Fran despite it being around two in the morning. Stiles was in the waiting room, moving between fidgeting in his seat like a caffeinated squirrel or pacing around until there was a chance he would ruin the floor.

The doors opened and Stiles looked up, blinking back sleep and bleariness to see Mrs. McCall. Stiles scrambled towards her.

“How is he?” Stiles asked. “Oh my god, please tell us Dad’s ok.”

“Mrs. McCall!” Robbie was running from down the hall, one hand holding his phone to his ear. “Fran, wait a sec. They’ve got news,” he said. “How is he?”

Mrs. McCall smiled. “Your father’s fine, boys. He’s stabilized. We’ll be ready to move him and Jill to a room later.”

Stiles let out a sob of relief. 

“Oh my god,” Robbie heaved. “Fran, Dad’s ok and so is Jill. They’re both ok. Thank god.”

Stiles grabbed his brother in a tight hug. Stiles could hear Fran’s relieved sobbing on the phone.

The door opened and Jennifer and Derek walked out. Derek was in his scrubs suit, his hair stuck up every which way when he pulled off his cap. Jennifer had hers off, her hair tied back. Derek saw Stiles and smiled, tired but relieved.

As Stiles thanked and hugged Mrs. McCall, Robbie walked over to both doctors and shook their hands. “Our sister, Fran, is crying hysterically and screaming ‘thank you’s all the way from L.A. Our family is so very grateful.”

“Thank you so much, Doctor Blake. Thank you so, so much.” Stiles shook her hand.

“This means they’re ok, right? Since everyone’s smiling?”

A grinning Scott was wide awake and so was Ben, who was looking hopeful and near tears. He stood up, stumbling on shaky legs towards them.

“They’re ok, Ben. Dad and Jill are fine,” Robbie said, kissing his forehead.

“Thank you,” Ben said to Dr. Blake, earnest and happy. “Because we lost Mommy two years ago but now we still have Daddy and Jill so thank you.”

“We’re just doing our jobs, sweetie,” Jennifer said, smiling. “But you’re very much welcome.” She looked utterly charmed when Ben reached out to give her a hug.

Ben turned to Derek and just about crashed into his middle. “Thanks, Dr. Derek.”

Derek crouched down, rubbing his head with a smile. “You’re welcome buddy.”

Ben reached around his broad shoulders and hugged him tightly. Stiles smiled as Derek hugged him back. Ben suddenly leaned over to cup a hand around Derek’s ear and whispered something to him. When they pulled apart, Derek was laughing.

“Thank you, but we’ll see,” Derek said, mussing his hair. Derek simply smiled at Stiles’ and Robbie’s questioning looks.

Stiles walked over to him and threw himself on the doctor in a fierce embrace, not caring about whoever was watching. “Thank you.” Stiles reared up, making to kiss him.

Derek put a hand on his cheek, laughing. “I’m a bit of a mess, Stiles.”

Stiles placed a hand over Derek’s mouth and kissed the back of his own hand. Derek chuckled and Stiles smiled.

“Thanks, Derek.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments, constructive criticisms, and kudos are loved. Thank you very much.


	6. Chapter Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Sheriff glared at Stiles and Fran. “My children are torturing me.”
> 
> Derek chuckled at that. Fran rolled her eyes while Stiles snorted.
> 
> As Derek checked the equipment and the IV and made notes on his clipboard, the Sheriff pointed a finger at him. “Derek, if you want to continue dating my son, I demand you allow me to eat meat.”
> 
> Fran was laughing on the iPad while Stiles choked on his own spit.
> 
> \---
> 
> It was overwhelming and Stiles started shivering and shaking.
> 
> “Stiles?”
> 
> Stiles held his hands to his face, palms pressing against the moisture leaking from the corners of his eyes. His breathing came short and sharp as he was flooded with feelings he didn’t know what to do about.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A big THANK YOU for everyone's comments, bookmarks, kudos, and subscriptions! Enjoy!

Stiles opened the front door and ushered Jill and Ben inside the house. Ben was holding Jill’s hand and was talking to her as they entered. Jill was laughing and Stiles couldn’t help feeling relieved at seeing her in high spirits.

It had been a few days since the accident and the doctors had finally allowed Jill to go home, but with some prescription medication to help her manage the pain and the occasional bout of dizziness. She had the left side of her head shaved and a bandage was on her temple for the two-inch scar, but she was in pretty good shape overall and Stiles was thankful. 

Jill didn't even mind the scar or the new hairstyle actually. She simply shrugged and said she had always wanted to try it out.

So Stiles and Ben took her home to help her get settled in, leaving Robbie behind at the hospital to look after their father.

“Come on,” Stiles said. “Get inside and I can start on lunch.”

Stiles noticed Jill stroking the bandage on her temple. “Do you want to take a nap before lunch, princess? You must be exhausted.”

“No, I’m fine,” Jill said. If she didn’t protest Stiles calling her princess, then it was obvious she was not at all fine, probably drained.

Even Ben noticed, he pursed his lips and tugged on Jill’s hand. “Jillie, we can make a pillow fort if you want and watch TV on the couch so you’ll be comfy?”

Jill smiled. “Sure.”

“Shower first,” Stiles said. “So Jill can get rid of the hospital smell and you two will be more comfortable.” He turned to Jill, kissing her bandaged temple. “I’ll be up in a few to help you with the bandages, princess.”

“Don’t call me princess,” Jill muttered, but she walked off towards the stairs.

“Is Dr. Derek coming?” Ben asked.

“He’s still finishing his shift at the hospital,” Stiles said, checking his watch. “But he promised he’ll be here in time for lunch and to take a look at Jill.”

Ben nodded and ran up the stairs after his sister.

Stiles sighed in relief, letting himself relax. Jill was home, fine and dandy. Their Dad was fine, still mostly asleep and recuperating, though he had regained consciousness the day before for a few minutes. That was just enough for him to talk to his chidren, even Fran who was on speakerphone. There were tears all around and everyone was just immensely relieved all the Stilinskis were accounted for.

Stiles dropped his bag on the couch and stretched his arms high up to get rid of the kinks. Stiles had spent the past weekend at the hospital, only leaving to get food and clothes, and spent the time entertaining their many visitors. Robbie and Ben visited everyday, but they both didn't think it was good for their youngest to hang around the hospital. The Stilinskis had a private room anyway, so Stiles was comfortable being left behind.

Scott and Allison had been supportive, visiting constantly and helping them clean up and buy food. All their friends also came by, Lydia and Danny dragging Jackson and making him pay for all the takeout, and Isaac, Erica and Boyd bringing in magazines and comic books and Isaac lending his PSP to Ben. The deputies from the station also visited, as well as some of their family friends around town, even Ms. Grant and Professor Kendal.

Stiles washed his hands and decided to make parmesan fish sticks and creamy chicken and rice soup. As he was taking out all the stuff he needed, he called Derek.

 _“Hey,”_ Derek’s voice came through the phone. _“I was just about to call. Did you guys get home ok?”_

“Yep,” Stiles said. “They’re taking a bath and resting. I’m making lunch.”

_“Isaac and Erica are giving me a lift. I’ll be there in about an hour.”_

“Great. Oh, and Isaac and Erica are invited too.”

Stiles let the chicken and fish defrost and headed up to the second floor to Jill’s room. Stiles could hear Derek talking to someone on the other end.

Stiles knocked at Jill’s room. “Jill? You all set?”

Jill was seated at her bedroom and only in her bra and shorts. Her entire upper body was covered in butterfly bandages, and so were her arms and her left thigh.

 _“Isaac and Erica said thanks,”_ Derek said when he came on. _“I’ll see you in a bit. Jill can let some of her cuts breathe, but don’t take off the one on her head. I’ll take a look at it after lunch.”_

“I’ll tell her. Thank you. I have a ridiculously awesome boyfriend.”

Even from the phone, he can hear Derek’s smile. _“So do I. Can’t wait to see you.”_

At half-past twelve, Stiles had finished making lunch and a side salad. He came out to the living room where Jill and Ben were watching a movie while immersed in the depths of their pillow fort.

The doorbell rang.

“I’ll get it!” Ben shouted, scrambling out from under a large blanket.

“Can we eat here?” Jill asked from where she was reclining comfortably on the armchair.

“Sure thing,” Stiles said. “But don’t get used to it, spoiled brat.” Jill stuck her tongue out at him.

“HI DR. DEREK! HI ISAAC! HI ERICA!” Ben shouted. They could hear him jumping up and down.

There were a few greetings before Ben walked in, dragging Derek behind him. Isaac and Erica followed, amused.

“-fish sticks and chicken soup. Robbie’s is better because he’s the best cook ever, but Stiles is ok,” Ben was saying animatedly to a laughing Derek. “He’s second best cook, then Jill. Fran doesn’t know how to cook, like she burns everything, and I’m not allowed to touch a knife.” Ben smiled at Stiles and Jill. “THEY’RE HERE!”

“We heard you screaming about it, Ben,” Jill said. She waved a hand. “Hi Isaac, Erica. Hi Dr. D.”

Ben bounded over to Stiles. “And look what they brought me!”

Stiles gaped at the box of cinnamon buns. “Oh, guys, you didn’t have to.”

“They’re not for you,” Isaac said, grinning. “They’re for Ben.”

“Hey, Jill,” Erica said. She kissed Stiles’ cheek and approached the girl. “And these are for you.” She handed her three pretty daisies tied together with a purple bow.

Jill beamed. “They’re so pretty! Thank you.”

“Don’t I get anything?” Stiles pouted at Derek, who laughed.

“We brought you Derek,” Erica said, grinning.

Stiles sighed. “Fine. I’ll settle for you.”

Derek grabbed him by the middle, kissing him softly on the mouth. “Thanks for inviting us to lunch.”

Stiles hummed, kissing Derek again. “You’re welcome.”

“And I did bring you something.” Derek pulled out something from his pocket to show him his keys. “I got your jeep.”

Stiles’ eyes widened. He hadn’t seen his jeep since the accident since he’s been getting by using Robbie’s car. He grabbed them, mystified. 

“Oh my god! Thank you! How did you get my keys?”

“Asked your landlord if he could let me in your apartment. I actually thought I’d have to do some explaining, but he didn’t mind letting me in, said he’s seen my Camaro too many times out front anyway.” Derek grinned. “I also took the opportunity to clean up a little. You had a lot of pamphlets and stuff scattered around the back.”

“Sorry about the mess.” Stiles flushed. “And this is really, really awesome. Thank you.” He leaned up, kissing him soundly on the mouth.

“Ew. Stop. No more,” Jill whined.

Erica and Isaac made gagging noises.

“Kisses,” Ben giggled, snuggling up to Erica.

“Fine, fine,” Stiles held up his hands in surrender. “And Ben, lunch before sugar. If you so much as take one bite out of those, you are not allowed to eat.”

Stiles took Derek’s hand and dragged him down the hall. As soon as they were out of sight, Derek pinned him against the wall. Stiles instantly melted against him and wrapped his arms around Derek’s shoulders, tilting his head. They kissed. It was just a few soft and warm presses of their lips together, but it was enough to make Stiles’ spine feel like jelly.

“That was awesome,” Stiles said when they pulled away.

“Yeah.” Derek smiled down at him, his green eyes shining as he planted a soft kiss against Stiles’ neck. He nuzzled the spot. “I’ve missed you.”

“Ditto,” Stiles said, running a hand through the older man’s hair. “Even if we only saw each other like a few hours ago when I picked up Jill from the hospital.”

“Even so.” Derek chuckled, his breath warm and tickling Stiles’ neck. He leaned back, cupping Stiles’ face and rubbing his thumbs against his cheek. “At least now you can get some sleep. You look so tired.”

“I feel tired,” Stiles said, holding on to Derek’s wrists. “But I’m just happy that Jill’s home. Only Dad left.”

Stiles knew he had bags under his eyes. As much as the doctors have assured him that his family was fine, he found it hard to fall asleep every time he saw his family on the hospital beds. Derek was on night shift all weekend when he saw Stiles still awake and watching his family. After telling Derek it made him remember his mom, Derek spent the rest of the time with Stiles until he managed to fall asleep.

Stiles sighed deeply and smiled. He kissed Derek on the cheek and said, “Come on. Time’s wasting. Let’s eat.” They walked back to the living room. “Lunchtime. We can eat here at the living room, but everyone serves themselves. If anything spills, you clean it.”

“Yes, sir!” Ben said, saluting.

“Sure thing,” Isaac said, jumping up. “Thanks again for inviting us.”

“I’ll get you something, Jill,” Erica offered.

“Nah, I can do it,” Jill said. She looked a bit pained as she tried to sit upright.

“Come on, princess,” Stiles said, walking over to her. He gently eased her up until she was steady on her feet. “Anything hurting?”

“My back and thigh mostly,” Jill said. “I think I got spots on my shirt.”

Stiles peeked, frowning at the droplets of blood.

“There aren’t too many, Jill. We can wrap them up later,” Derek said soothingly.

Everyone headed to the kitchen.

* * *

After lunch, Stiles ushered Jill and Derek up to Jill’s bedroom so the doctor can give her a onceover. Ben, who was curious about the cuts, asked if he could watch. Derek refused.

“Ben’s a bit gory so he’s not scared of blood,” Jill said, shrugging. “And so long as Ben doesn’t touch them, I really don’t mind, Dr. D.”

“I’ll be good!” Ben said, putting on the puppy dog eyes.

Stiles nodded, when Derek turned to him. “The two of them aren’t queasy about blood and injuries anyway. It's fine, Derek.”

Jill was already on her way up the stairs, saying over her shoulder, “We know you’re gonna be professional about it anyway. We trust you.”

“Yep!” Ben said, grinning, “Since you patched up Jill and Daddy.”

Derek looked equal parts delighted and surprised at what they said and Stiles had to duck down to hide the large grin on his face.

Derek nodded. “Ok. Fine. But Ben, you’re not allowed to look when I check your sister’s stitches.”

Ben pouted, but agreed at Derek’s stern look and then ran off up the stairs.

“We’ll be in the kitchen,” Stiles said, amused.

Derek kissed Stiles on the cheek before following after the two younger Stilinskis.

Stiles ambled over to the kitchen where Isaac and Erica had volunteered to do the dishes. They were having a spirited debate on something about New York.

“Hey, Stiles?” Erica said as Stiles settled on the bar watching them. “Have you ever been to New York?”

Stiles nodded. “A few times, but not recently. We went there on vacation once before Ben was born, and when Fran wanted to scope out a company that wanted to hire her. And when…” He paused, swallowing. “When my mom got sick, she wanted to see it one last time.”

The two were quiet and Stiles picked at a loose thread on his shirt.

“I was born in London and lived there with my mom and dad until I was nine,” Isaac said. His voice was quiet and his words soft, but Stiles heard it clearly.

Stiles gulped and kept quiet. Was Isaac going to…

Isaac continued to rinse the dishes while Erica dried them. She didn't seem surprised at what Isaac was saying.

“My dad found a job in Chicago so we moved, and then a few months later, he died of kidney failure. It wasn’t long after when my mom met Harold at some church event.” Isaac’s features darkened. “They got married when I was eleven and we moved to Ohio where Harold worked. Mom died a year after from a hit-and-run.”

Isaac suddenly shuddered and let out a breath. “This part never gets easier,” he told Erica. She nudged him gently on the shoulder. Isaac was finished with the dishes, so he wiped his hands and leaned back against the counter, giving Stiles a small smile.

“Harold wasn’t the nicest. He used to…” He cleared his throat. “He got drunk a lot, used to hit me, and lock me in the broken freezer in our basement or in the hall closet that was barely big enough to fit me.”

Stiles’ eyes widened, his jaw dropping in shock. “Oh my god, Isaac.”

Isaac shrugged. It was obvious the memories weren’t pleasant, but he was still giving Stiles that small smile. “I was fifteen when we ran into trouble. One of the neighbors called the police after hearing a lot of shouting. Harold had gotten fired from his job and he took it out on me.”

Erica let out a soft whine and even Stiles fisted his hands on his jeans.

“We ran for it. He stuffed me in a car and drove the nine hours to New York. By the time we got there, I was delirious and bleeding all over the car. It was a small mercy he even took me to the hospital. He dropped me off and left.” He gave Stiles a wry grin. “Guess who my doctor was.”

“Derek,” Stiles whispered.

Isaac grinned, this one was wider and happier. “It was a private hospital so I couldn’t stay very long but Derek vouched for me, paid for everything and looked after me while I spent two months at the hospital and one month with a psychiatrist. When social services came to get me, Laura assumed power of attorney so I didn’t end up in foster care. Four months after Harold dropped me off at the hospital, the police caught up with him.” Isaac laughed. “Laura argued my case, won, and I got back everything I left behind in Ohio.”

“As well as a ridiculous inheritance from his real dad that Harold had kept from him,” Erica said, grinning. “We had to go to London so Isaac could claim it.” She gave Isaac a fond smile. “And here you are, one of the stingiest people I’ve met. Won’t even pay for your own goddamn pizza.”

“How did you come to stay with Derek?” Stiles asked.

Isaac looked happy as he said, “Laura and Peter didn’t want kids, much less a teenager, but Derek wanted me. It took about three months of convincing before I agreed for him to file for custody. Derek and Laura have powerful friends so barely a month after that, Derek became my legal guardian.”

Stiles let out a breath. “That’s… that’s amazing.”

“Isn’t it?” Isaac grinned. “The Hales became my family when I was sixteen. Erica came after.”

Stiles turned to Erica, who had hoisted herself up on the counter. She shrugged.

“It’s about as dramatic,” she said, laughing. “Mom left after I was born and Dad couldn’t take care of me, so he gave me up to the orphanage when I was thirteen. I got transferred to a new school, was bullied every single day, until one afternoon when I was fifteen and crying at the back parking lot, a tall, good-looking man sat down next to me and brought me burgers and a milkshake.”

Stiles was startled into a small laugh. “Derek? Milkshakes?”

“Weird, I know,” Erica giggled, seeing the humor. “Turns out his apartment building was just behind the school, saw me getting picked on a few times. The next day after school, before anybody could drag me off to the back lot, Derek and Isaac came by in the Camaro. And they were both, might I add, in leather jackets.”

“I remember that.” Isaac snickered. “He wanted to look intimidating so they would stop hurting Erica.”

Erica grinned. “Well, it worked. Every day after that Derek, Isaac, or both of them would come by to pick me up. Sometimes we’d go out for movie and drinks, or they’d take me back to the orphanage. A few months later, Derek asked me to come with him. I said yes. Laura did her lawyer magic and I became part of the family.”

“We’ve been family for six years now.” Isaac wrapped an arm around Erica and she giggled, reaching up to ruffle the blonde’s hair. They grinned at Stiles.

“I…” Stiles didn’t know what to say. He choked out, “Thank you… for… It means a lot, telling me all this. I…”

Stiles licked his lips. He needed to make them understand just how big this was for him. He knew how much Derek cared about Erica and Isaac. He’d seen how Derek looked whenever he talked about them, always fond and loving. When Stiles had first met Isaac and Erica, they were tight-lipped and more than a little hostile when pressed about anything concerning their supposed 'cousin' and how they were all related. For them to trust him like this meant more to him than he could say.

“Derek is very important to me,” Stiles said. He shook his head. “I mean, I…” He swallowed thickly. “I-I love him. I do. Very much.”

“We know. That’s why we thought you should know.” Isaac nodded.

“And also why we would kick your ass all the way to the North Pole if you ever hurt Derek,” Erica added.

Stiles laughed as Erica leaned over to kiss his cheek. Isaac patted him on the back with a grin and the two walked off to the direction of the living room just as steps came thundering down from the second floor.

“I saw Jill’s stitches!” Ben was screaming.

“What? Derek let you look?” Erica asked as Isaac laughed.

“I took a peek when Dr. Derek was looking the other way!”

Stiles stayed there in the kitchen, the sound of laughter and conversation coming in from the living room. He didn’t really have a thought in his head, just a quiet calm churning in his mind as he sat by the bar and swung his legs back and forth.

Stiles wasn’t really surprised, but he still let out a yelp when he felt hands wrap around his waist. When Derek nuzzled against his neck, Stiles relaxed instantly. Derek didn’t say anything, just pressed his face to Stiles’ skin as Stiles leaned back, folding his hands over Derek’s hands on his stomach. They stayed there for a while, basking in the peaceful moment, happy to be with each other.

When Stiles finally felt it in him to move, he shifted around in Derek’s arms until he could scoot over to sit on the older man’s lap, facing him. Stiles took off his glasses, placing them on the counter, and held Derek’s face between his hands. Derek propped his arms against the counter behind Stiles, cocooning him between his arms.

God. He loved this man.

“I…” Stiles swallowed. What could he say?

Derek’s eyes were bright as he smiled. He seemed to get it. “I know.”

Stiles kissed him, slower and sweeter than he’d ever kissed him before.

* * *

“I’ve got salad, fish, veggie burgers, and fruit.” Stiles placed everything on the counter. “What’re you in the mood for?”

His Dad looked at him sullenly. “Meat.”

There was a sigh from the iPad and Fran glared at her Dad disapprovingly. _“Dad, you can’t eat that much meat. Not yet. It’s only been a week since your accident.”_

“Give me just a few strips of meat! I’m hungry! And I’m bored!” Their Dad whined. “I don’t want all these baby food.”

“Let it be known who we inherited our superb whining skills from,” Stiles commented, amused more than anything. Fran was angry enough for the both of them.

 _“Daddy, that is just mean and insensitive towards babies and people who eat healthy.”_ Fran upped the force of her glare.

There was a knock on the door and Derek stepped in, a stethoscope around his neck and looking professional in his doctor’s coat.

“Good morning, Sheriff,” Derek said. He smiled at Stiles. “Morning.”

“Hey, Dr. Hale,” Stiles said, grinning.

 _“Morning, doc!”_ Fran called out. Derek waved at her.

Derek turned back to the Sheriff, taking out the clipboard hanging from the end of the bed. “How are you feeling today, Sheriff?”

Their Dad was mostly wrapped up in bandages, his entire torso and his left arm from shoulder to wrist. His left leg was in a cast. He also had a bandage on his cheek where Ben had drawn an X-mark with Lydia’s pink lipstick.

The Sheriff glared at Stiles and Fran. “My children are torturing me.”

Derek chuckled at that. Fran rolled her eyes while Stiles snorted.

As Derek checked the equipment and the IV and made notes on his clipboard, the Sheriff pointed a finger at him. “Derek, if you want to continue dating my son, I demand you allow me to eat meat.”

Fran's tinny voice burst from the iPad as she laughed loudly, while Stiles choked on his own spit.

“Dad!” He glared

Derek was laughing to himself.

“Ah, well, I do want that to continue,” he said. “But I am also invested in making sure my boyfriend’s father is well enough to live a very long life, where his greatest joy is disapproving of me and threatening me with a gun if I make his son miserable.” He smiled politely at the man. “So, nothing fatty and no excessive cholesterol for at least three more days.”

Fran was snickering and Stiles was gaping and blushing like mad. Their Dad looked at Derek, as if considering something.

Derek signed his name with a flourish. “I can take it down to two days if you make sure to keep eating fresh fruit.”

Their Dad grumbled and pouted, but it was obvious he was somewhat mollified by that.

“Dr. Blake and Nurse McCall will be by in a few hours to check your bandages and your cast.” Derek nodded, placing the clipboard back on its spot before walking towards the door. “Have a good day, sir. My regards to L.A. and Richard, Fran. See you later, Stiles.”

Stiles lifted a hand at Derek who paused to give him a meaningful look before walking out the door. While they both couldn’t help the occasional smile, touch and sustained eye contact, they both agreed it was better not to parade about, not that the entire hospital, Stiles’ dad, and probably the whole town didn't already know they were dating.

Their Dad was quiet, still looking at the closed door where Derek had exited. Stiles knew his Dad was probably thinking about how to take Derek’s comment, so Stiles went about straightening up the room instead. He glanced at Fran who had gone back to work, but was occasionally glancing at their Dad.

“Stiles, give me those damn fruits.”

Stiles chalked that up to a win.

* * *

Stiles packed up the rest of his Dad’s things in a duffel bag. He looked around at the bare hospital room. After two weeks, Doctor Blake finally gave them the green light to take their Dad home.

Stiles let out a long and deep sigh, finally feeling his chest and shoulders loosened. It was like he’d been holding air in and taking only shallow breaths ever since the accident. Now it felt like he could breathe again.

There was a knock on the door. It was probably Derek. He had promised to see them off. Maybe it was Fran, who had taken leave from L.A. to see Dad and Jill. When Stiles turned to the door though, it wasn’t him. Jennifer was there, looking professional and adult in her doctor’s coat, hair tucked back, and her ruby red lips curved into a smile.

Despite what happened between her and Derek, Stiles didn’t really dislike Jennifer. She was responsible for taking care of his father and Jill after all, so that was a point in her favor. Stiles also saw that Derek carried no ill will towards the woman. Sure, their little fling wasn’t all roses and it ended pretty badly, but they were both in the wrong anyway - Derek for assuming more despite Jennifer clearly telling him she didn’t want a relationship and Jennifer for stringing Derek along. In the end, it was two people with different takes on a barely-there relationship.

While Stiles didn’t hate her, he wasn’t overly fond of her either. Promiscuity seemed to be a part of her overall nature and Stiles had seen the way she looked at Derek. Stiles knew that she would take any excuse to have a little fun with him. Then again, she had backed off from Derek after seeing that he and Stiles were involved, so Stiles couldn't really find more faults in her.

“Morning, Stiles.”

“Good morning, Dr. Blake,” Stiles said. “I think Fran was just looking for you. Thanks again for letting us take our Dad home.”

“No problem at all,” Jennifer said, stepping into the room. Stiles noticed she closed the door behind her. “And I did speak to your sister. I think she’s talking to Dr. Hale right now.”

“Is there anything else, doc?” Stiles asked, as he threw the trash in the bin.

“Nothing, really,” Jennifer said as she walked around the room, her fingernails tapping the table. “Oh, except for the fact that today is my last day.”

Stiles dropped one of the takeout containers in surprise. He picked it up, flushing, and tossed it into the bin. He turned to Jennifer, who had a hand on her hip, looking at him with an amused smirk.

“Really? Why’s that?”

Jennifer shrugged. “I was only invited here for two weeks and that time is up. Time to go back to New York.”

“Oh.” Stiles wasn't quite sure what he felt about all this. “I hope you had a nice stay, Doc. I know the hospital certainly liked having you here. So did I since, you know, you helped Jill and my Dad. Thanks for that.”

Jennifer grinned. “You’re welcome.”

Stiles packed everything away and took one last look around. Jennifer was still just watching him. He rubbed the back of his neck, confused and self-conscious.

Then Jennifer let out a laugh. “The people back at New York are going to have a field day talking about you.”

Stiles narrowed his eyes at her. “… what do you mean?”

Jennifer leaned back on the wall, looking less like a doctor and more like a predator. “People back home are already well aware that Derek found himself a boyfriend here in Beacon Hills.” She looked at him from head to toe. “You can imagine everyone’s interest in you, Genim Stilinski.”

Stiles frowned. There were so many things he wanted to pick apart in what she said. “If that was supposed to bother me, Doc, I can assure you it doesn’t. I know I’m not Derek’s first boyfriend the same way Derek knows he’s not mine. We’re both fine with it.”

Jennifer seemed mildly surprised and Stiles pushed on.

“And I can probably understand why people think it’s so interesting, but you folks in New York are nosy.”

Jennifer laughed, loud and pleased. She smacked her lips. “If it makes you feel any better, all Stacey Timber told us was that Derek’s new boyfriend was young but quite a looker, which you are, despite the whole nerdy-hipster look.”

Who? Stiles pushed his glasses up his nose in thought before suddenly remembering Stacey Timber, the large and perky woman they met back at Franklin Elementary School.

Jennifer smirked. “But anyway, you’re right. Derek’s life here has been a topic of interest to the New York crew. He’s a lot of s’es: smart, strong, silent, sexy, scrumptious.” She deliberately lengthened the ‘r’ on the last word.

“You’re forgetting stupid, stubborn, silly, sentimental, sincere...” Stiles shrugged. “I can wax poetic about him all day if that’s what you’re going for.”

Jennifer leaned towards him and before Stiles could do anything, she held his chin in place and placed a kiss right on his cheek. When she pulled back, Stiles knew he had a kiss mark there.

“The kids back at New York are expecting an appearance from you in the future.” She winked. “See you, baby.”

With that said, Jennifer stepped back and walked out of the room with a flourish.

Stiles reached up, wiping a hand on his cheek. It came away smudged with red. He frowned and started wiping it off some more.

Ok… What was _that_ about?

“Did Dr. Blake just come in here?”

Stiles jumped up and whipped around to see Derek peeking in. Derek’s eyes zeroed in on his lipstick-stained face and frowned.

Stiles flailed as he started trying to get more of the lipstick out. “This is not what it looks like, Derek! I swear! She started saying stuff about how people in New York know about us, about me, and how they’re interested in you having a boyfriend after Stacey Timber blabbed about it to the New York crowd. Then she said stuff about them wanting to see me and I swear nothing happened except for the fact that she planted one on me!”

Derek was still frowning as he approached and Stiles felt worry crawling up his spine.

“She didn’t do anything you didn’t want, did she?” Derek asked, slowly and cautiously.

“Not a thing,” Stiles said. “Except for this.” He pointed at his cheek. “And I don’t think she really meant to do anything except freak me out a little.”

Derek pulled out a handkerchief and wiped at his cheek. When he was done, he placed a kiss on Stiles’ nose. Stiles went boneless with relief.

“Sorry,” he muttered.

“Nothing to be sorry for,” Derek said and Stiles could sense sincerity in his voice. “Jennifer’s just naturally…”

“Aggressive? Pushy? Has no sense of boundaries?” Stiles asked, frowning at his lipstick-stained hands.

“Let’s go with unrestrained,” Derek said, wiping away the lipstick from Stiles hands. “And I did guess about Stacey. Just the week after seeing us I already had people texting me. She’s always been a bit of a gossip.”

“You never told me people in New York knew about me,” Stiles said.

Derek shrugged. “The only people who know the truth about you are the ones who matter, like Laura and Peter, and my closest friends. The rest are just gossip.” He looked at Stiles, worried. “Does that bother you?”

“Jennifer said something about people in New York wanting to see me.” Stiles frowned. “I mean, it doesn’t bother me. I definitely don’t mind going if I get to see the people you want me to meet.”

“The rest are just nosy people,” Derek said.

Stiles snickered. “That’s what I told her.”

“We can talk about NYC next time, I promise.” Derek smiled and leaned down, kissing Stiles on the mouth. “Now, come on. Your Dad and Fran are waiting.”

“I’ll miss you, you know,” Stiles said, grabbing the duffel bag. “I know we won’t get to see each other much since I have to stay at home to look after Dad and Jill.”

“You’ll be surprised,” Derek said, grinning. He leaned down to plant a kiss on Stiles’ cheek, right where Jennifer had left her mark.

Before Stiles could ask what he meant, Derek had pulled him out the door, letting go of his hand when they caught sight of Fran and their Dad on his wheelchair.

“See you later,” Derek said.

Stiles walked over to his family.

“Come on. I want to get out of here, go home, and get half-naked,” John said.

“That’s not really something the Sheriff should announce in public,” Fran said, laughingly kissing her father’s cheek.

“I don’t care,” John said. “Get me home, kids.”

“Will do, lord and master,” Stiles said, grabbing the handle of his Dad’s wheelchair. He made motorcycle noises under his breath.

“Onward,” John said, raising an arm and pointing down the hall.

Fran laughed as Stiles wheeled his Dad down the hall.

Half an hour later, they were finally at home and John was settled, half-drowning in the blankets and pillows Ben had arranged on his armchair. Jill was stretched out on the couch, dozing off. Robbie was making lunch. Fran was fussing over their Dad and cleaning up while Ben was hovering with her.

“Dr. Blake and Dr. Hale said you can walk around so long as you use your crutches and keep off your left leg. We’ve already cleaned up the guest room so you can stay here at the first floor,” Fran said.

“Jillie and I will sleep with you, Dad!” Ben said.

John nodded, ruffling Ben’s hair.

“Good to have you home, Daddy,” Jill muttered, already on the verge of sleep.

John's expression softened, smiling. “Thanks, Jill. Thanks, kids.” He stretched a little, looking tired.

“Take a rest,” Fran said. “We’ll wake you up in time for lunch so you can take your meds.”

“I’m in on that,” Stiles said, holding back a yawn. He stretched his arms in the air. “I am taking a nap. Don’t bother calling me in for lunch. I’m bushed. Just come get me when it’s time for dinner.”

“Sure thing, honey.” Fran nodded.

Stiles kissed Jill on the temple and then his father on the cheek before jogging up the stairs to bathe and then take a nap.

* * *

Stiles was brought out of sleep by a warm hand against his cheek and soft fingers in his hair. He groaned and opened his eyes sleepily. When his blurry vision focused enough, the first thing he saw was Derek’s amused face.

“Hi,” Stiles said, voice still croaky from sleep. “Did I fall asleep? How was work?”

“Work was fine,” Derek said, chuckling. “Busy, but fine.”

“Wait a sec. You’re…” Stiles’ brain was slowly coming back online. He rubbed his eyes. He had taken a nap in his room after helping his Dad get settled in, but he was at home, not at his apartment. And even if he was, he should have realized Derek still wouldn’t have been able to get in and wake him up without a key.

Stiles looked at Derek. He still felt disoriented. “You’re in my room.”

“Yes,” Derek nodded, smiling.

“In my house.”

“Yes.”

“While my family is here.”

“Yes, I am.”

Stiles spoke slowly. “You’re in my house while my family is here, while Fran is here, while my Dad is here.”

“I know,” Derek said, chuckling and cupping Stiles’ cheek with his palm. “I came for thank-goodness-we-are-out-of-the-hospital movie night.”

Stiles was jerked completely awake at that. He sat up. “But I didn’t… not that I don’t want you here, Derek, but–”

“Your Dad invited me, actually,” Derek said casually, as if it wasn’t the most shocking thing Stiles had heard.

“My Dad, what?” he gaped. “Wait a sec. This is what you mean about seeing me later?”

Derek nodded, having the sense to look a little embarrassed.

“I… I…” Stiles wasn’t sure how he felt about this.

“…too soon?” Derek flushed, rubbing his neck. “I just… I didn’t want to say no to your Dad. And I was… I was kind of shocked. I… I’m sorry. Did I–”

Stiles practically pounced, pinning Derek against the bed and swooping down to kiss him, hard and needy and all sorts of delighted. Because Derek was here, right here, in his home, his childhood room, having willingly said yes to his father’s invitation to meet him formally as his boyfriend.

“Oh, good. I guess I did ok?” Derek said, a bit breathless and lips looking kiss-swollen when Stiles pulled away.

“Yeah,” Stiles said, ridiculously happy. “You did awesome. I just hope Dad didn’t, you know, push you into this.”

“He didn’t,” Derek said, hands reaching up to stroke Stiles’ back. “Though he was kind of motioning to his sidearm as he spoke. It wasn't available at the hospital at that time, but Jill told me he had asked her to get it for him so he could hide it under his blankets.”

Stiles groaned, nuzzling Derek’s neck. “My Dad is so gonna rip you apart the way he did Richard.”

Derek looked contemplative. “I did handle your Dad's surgery, so maybe he’ll be nice?”

“Ah, I don’t think there’s a chance of that,” Stiles said, biting back a grin.

Derek sighed, his eyes full of mirth despite the frown on his face. “I see. But If I end up on the receiving end of a gun, a knife, or any such things, I might have to break up with you.”

Stiles snickered.

There was a knock on the door and Fran opened it without permission. She didn’t seem surprised to see them sprawled out on Stiles’ bed.

“You’re lucky Dad’s stuck at the first floor.” Fran smirked. “But you better get your butts down there, boys, before Dad attempts to brave those steps just to tear you two off each other.”

Stiles chuckled, leaning down to kiss Derek, never mind Fran watching, and then pulled him up. They followed a giggling Fran down the stairs and into the living room while holding hands.

There was a cough and they saw John settled on his favorite armchair, looking at them pointedly. Stiles could see him frown at their intertwined hands.

“Well, well, this is a surprise,” Stiles said, jerking a thumb at Derek. “Why am I the last to find out about this?”

Jill was tummy down on the couch, lazily waving a foot in the air. “Really? Didn’t you tell Stiles, Dr. D?”

Derek shrugged. “Surprise?”

Stiles noticed his Dad look curiously at Derek at that. He knew that look. Derek obviously got a few plus points from his Dad for coming here of his own volition.

“I invited Derek over,” John said, grunting as he adjusted himself on his seat. He put up his cast on the beanbag. “Anything wrong with that?” He raised an eyebrow at Stiles.

“Not a thing,” Stiles said, pushing Derek over to the couch. Derek willingly sat where John could see him and watch his every move if he wanted.

Derek was damn brave. Stiles felt proud.

“We’re not sure what date you’re in,” Jill said, grinning. “But we figured after the thing with the hospital, the tenth date rule doesn’t apply in this case.”

Stiles turned to Derek, who was only chuckling to himself. He had told Derek about the tenth rule. If this counted as a date, this would have definitely been their tenth. Derek noticed him looking and simply grinned.

“But we’re happy to have you, Derek,” Fran said, as she fluffed up the pillows.

John cleared his throat. “I guess it would be hypocritical to deny that making sure my kids still have their Dad around does not earn points with me. However, you are not in any way given the go ahead.” He looked at Derek.

Derek simply nodded, smiling politely. “Of course, sir.”

Fran giggled. “Dad’s just peeved you have enough brownie points with him that he won’t be able to pull off his ‘intimidating Sheriff Dad’ routine the way he did to Richard.”

“That’s not true,” John protested, pouting.

Stiles laughed and sat down beside Derek, leaning against him and, not caring about the way his Dad gave them pointed looks.

“We have come bearing food!” Robbie shouted as he and Ben came in carrying a tray of pizza rolls, buffalo wings, and nachos with bacon, jalapenos and melted cheese.

“Dr. D!” Ben leaped right on top of Derek. The doctor let out a grunt but he didn’t push Ben away. “Robbie made lemon chicken and potato salad too! And we have M&Ms, pretzels, and ice cream for later!”

“You’re crushing him, kiddo,” Stiles said, tugging at Ben’s ankle. He noticed Jill whispering to Fran who pulled out her phone and took a picture. Their Dad was frowning. Robbie was smirking.

“It’s all right,” Derek said, ruffling Ben’s hair. “That sounds yummy. Thank you all for having me.”

“Come on Ben,” Robbie said, already heading back to the kitchen. “Let’s get the chicken and potato salad. And bring Derek with you.”

Ben nodded and started tugging on Derek’s arm. Derek followed, only pausing to let his fingers rub against Stiles’ shoulder before following the two.

When they were gone, Jill let out a put-upon sigh. “Dad, are we still supposed to act like you still don’t like Dr. D when we all know you do?”

Stiles couldn’t help grinning proudly. “You do?”

“No, I don’t,” John protested, huffing.

“Well, I do,” Fran said. “Because my Daddy and my baby Jillie are still here, which we all owe to Derek Hale.” She kissed their Dad, who huffed again and tried to bat her off, and then Jill, who wiped her cheek, before kissing Stiles on the forehead. “I like him. Good for you, little brother.”

Stiles smiled. Her earnestness meant a lot. “Thanks, Fran.”

“We’ve got the food!” Robbie called out.

The three males walked in, carrying trays of potato salad, lemon chicken, plates, utensils, and drinks. It was tight fit across two coffee tables, but they managed.

They all settled down around the Stilinski living room. Stiles, Derek, and Robbie took up the couch, their dad was on his armchair, Ben and Jill were on beanbags on the floor, and Fran took up the loveseat.

“What are we watching?” Stiles asked, smiling as Derek handed him a few pizza rolls. He scooped up some potato salad for Derek.

It was easy to be embarrassed at Derek being so affectionate, but this was Derek as he normally was when it was just the two of them, and Stiles thought he owed it to him not to get flustered when Derek had been brave enough to come here without Stiles having to convince him.

They settled on three movies, enough to last the whole night. Ben usually conked out by the end of the second movie, while the third movie was usually something like a background noise while everyone talked or cleaned up for the night.

Dinner was pleasant. Ben laughed at the screen as he gobbled up as much buffalo wings as he could. Robbie was contented with a bowl of nachos, occasionally tossing a piece of chicken in his mouth. He and Stiles kept up a running commentary about the movie script and the lines. Jill was busy commenting about the female leads and the action scenes. Fran seemed to find everything either funny or cliched. Their Dad was constantly telling everybody to shut up, but it was half-hearted at best and he seemed to enjoy the noise nonetheless.

Derek was quiet a lot of the times and Stiles noticed him looking around rather than watch the show. He saw how amused and relaxed Derek was and Stiles was absolutely delighted that after he put their empty plates back on the tray, Derek placed an arm around his shoulders. Most of the others noticed, but they didn’t say or do anything, except for a knowing glance from their Dad. So Stiles nestled against Derek, happy and comfortable.

Halfway through the second movie, it was time for dessert.

“Pause it, Dad! Now!” Ben was shouting, bouncing up and down.

“No! Wait!” Robbie waved his hand in the air.

“Now! Now!” Fran was flailing. "You missed it!"

Stiles laughed and turned to the confused Derek. “We try to pause the video at the absolute funniest moment we can find.”

“Your call, Derek,” John suddenly said.

Stiles looked at Derek, who looked just as surprised, but Derek just said, “Er… now?”

His Dad pressed paused. It had settled on perfectly just as the lead character was screaming bloody murder, his mouth opened so wide that they could see all the way back to his uvula.

“EWW!” Jill said as Robbie and Ben burst out laughing.

“Good job!” Fran said, cheering.

“Time for dessert!” John called out.

Immediately, Ben, Jill and Robbie went running off to the kitchen. Stiles tried to stand, but Derek’s arm kept him in place.

“Derek! Move! Ice cream!” Stiles just about shoved his boyfriend over.

Stiles managed to get up, but Derek pulled his feet out from under him and sent him crashing back on the couch. Derek draped his upper body across Stiles’ thighs.

“DEREK! GET OFF!” Stiles shouted. “OH MY GOD!”

“You’re leaving me for ice cream?” Derek asked, looking at him teasingly. For the first time since they’ve been together, Stiles was actually tempted to punch him hard enough to hurt.

“If it’s pistachio, I will. Now get the fuck off, Derek!”

“Language,” John muttered, though Stiles could see a hint of a smirk on his face.

“Your boyfriend’s a toddler.” Fran giggled.

“I know, right?” Stiles and Derek said at the same time.

“She was talking about you though,” Derek said, chuckling.

Jill, Ben, and Robbie came back with small tubs of ice cream with bowls of M&Ms and pretzels.

Ben handed out tubs. “We got mint choco chip for Dad, coffee for Fran, dulce de leche for Robbie, and chocolate chip cookie dough for me.”

“And here’s your pistachio, Stiles,” Jill said, dangling a tub just out of arm’s reach.

“YES!” Stiles wriggled under Derek, arms flailing and hands making grabby motions. “I WANT!”

Derek finally budged over and Stiles pounced, grabbing the tub. Derek laughed. Stiles kicked his shin with his bare feet.

“See if I share any with you,” he said, sticking his tongue out at him.

“Not that I want any,” Derek said. “You know I hate pistachio.”

“Hey, we forgot to ask Derek what’s his favorite ice cream flavor,” Robbie commented. He turned to Derek. “It’s kind of a crime for everyone not to have their own tub, not in this household.”

“What’s your favorite flavor, Dr. Derek?” Ben asked. “We have lots. Maybe we have one you like?”

“Vanilla, definitely,” Derek said.

Stiles already knew that and, as he expected, Jill suddenly let out a loud squeal and practically threw herself on him, looking absolutely delighted.

“Er, I’m guessing that’s the right answer?” Derek laughed.

“That’s my favorite too!” Jill turned to Stiles. “Did you tell him?”

Stiles shook his head. “Nope. I always mock him for liking such a boring flavor.”

“It’s not boring,” Jill and Derek said looking offended, making Stiles laugh.

“I’ll give you my extra pint, Dr. D,” Jill said, jumping up and running to the kitchen.

“And just for that, Stiles, I’m not sitting with you,” Derek said.

When Jill came back, Derek slid down onto the floor beside her beanbag. They then started talking about how vanilla was certainly not boring.

“Now that everyone’s had their tubs, shall I click play?” John asked. Everyone nodded.

Stiles settled down on the couch with his own tub of pistachio, one his legs thrown over Derek’s shoulder where he was sitting on the floor in front of Stiles. Only two minutes into the film, Stiles scrambled forward, using his leg for leverage to slide off the couch and land smack in between Derek’s legs. He rearranged them to his liking, his back to Derek’s chest, Derek’s arms around him and Stiles juggling the two containers of ice cream on his knees. He looked over his shoulder at the amused doctor.

“Is this you apologizing for calling vanilla boring?” Derek asked. “If not, then get off me.”

Stiles groaned. “Fine. Vanilla is not boring, but pistachio is still better.”

Derek sighed. “That’s better than nothing I guess.”

Stiles grinned and leaned over. He just had enough time to see Derek’s surprise before he pressed a soft kiss against his lips.

In front of everyone.

Stiles went back to the movie, except now he had a slightly embarrassed Derek pressing a warm face to his neck.

Ben was the only one who didn’t really react. Jill only smirked and handed them bowls of treats for their ice cream. She and Derek started whispering about the difference between mixing vanilla with M&Ms or pretzels. Fran was giggling to herself. 

Robbie saw, but he didn’t really care. “That creepy white-ass dude definitely killed the mom,” he said.

“No, he didn’t. It’s totally the secretary,” Stiles bit back.

John spent about five minutes watching them, but Stiles knew they didn’t have anything to hide, well at least nothing the rest of his family didn’t already know. He settled against Derek, not the least bit surprised when Derek leaned over to kiss the back of his neck.

* * *

“Thanks again for having me, sir,” Derek said, reaching over to offer his hand to John.

John let out a huff, but he readily took Derek’s hand. “It’s fine. Thanks for coming, Derek. Don’t be a stranger.”

“I had fun. Thanks, Robbie, Fran,” Derek said, smiling at them. “Tell Jill and Ben for me.”

Stiles watched as Derek and Robbie shook hands and Fran reached up without hesitation to give Derek a hug.

“No problem at all,” Fran said. “We loved having you.”

Stiles put on his sneakers and looked up to see Derek offering a hand. He took it, twining their hands easily.

“I’ll see Derek out,” he called over his shoulder.

The two walked out the door. When they reached the driveway, Stiles glanced over his shoulder back at the house before leaning against Derek, pinning the older man against the side of the Camaro.

“You were amazing today,” he said, wrapping his arms around the older man’s shoulders.

Derek chuckled, arms coming around Stiles easily. “I didn’t do much.”

“You did a lot,” Stiles insisted, leaning up. “Thanks for meeting my family. Formally, I mean.”

Derek’s arms tightened around Stiles’ waist and Stiles couldn’t help making a soft noise of pleasure as Derek leaned down to kiss him. Their lips pressed against one another, teasing and nipping and Derek hummed appreciatively under his breath when Stiles pushed a hand under his shirt and dragged his blunt fingernails across Derek’s stomach. Derek rubbed his back up and down encouragingly as his tongue swept out teasingly along Stiles’ bottom lip.

Stiles opened his mouth, curling his tongue against Derek’s and deepening the kiss. Derek groaned and Stiles swallowed the sound greedily. Derek’s hands came down just above Stiles’ back pockets and Stiles knew Derek was tempted to touch, but won't. Not here at least. Derek moved back a little, kissing his cheek and then running his lips and hot breath along Stiles’ jaw, biting at his chin teasingly and making Stiles jerk a little in surprise.

“I’m fairly sure I made a good impression on your family,” Derek said, licking his own wet and swollen lips. “And I am not wasting that by having them catch me with my hands on your ass.”

Stiles scoffed. “If I know Fran, she’ll probably just be delighted to see us in action. And Robbie won’t care. And Dad is stuck in his armchair. So…”

Derek chuckled, kissing Stiles once more and squeezing his ass with both palms before letting go and returning his arms to his side.

“I’d like to think I’ve been a good boy tonight,” Derek said

Stiles groaned. “You are a cocktease, man.”

Derek laughed and rubbed their noses in an eskimo kiss. “I’ll call you when I get home.”

“Ok, and thanks again for getting my Jeep and cleaning it up,” Stiles said.

After one last kiss, Derek got into the Camaro and left. Stiles watched until Derek’s tail lights disappeared around the bend before moving back into the house. By the time he got back to the living room, the coffee table was spotless and Fran and Robbie were just taking away the trays of bowls, dishes, and glasses. Fran motioned to the couch and Stiles watched his siblings head to the kitchen.

“You set all this up, didn’t you?” Stiles said to his Dad, who was changing channels on TV. He tossed himself down on the couch. “This thing with inviting Derek without my knowing. For a Sheriff, you are really not that subtle.”

“I wasn’t trying to be,” his Dad said, looking amused. “Though I definitely didn’t count on Derek not telling you. That was a good trick.”

“He wasn’t planning on tricking you. He wanted to surprise me as much as you did,” Stiles said. “By the way, I have something for you and Jill, kind of a homecoming gift. I finished it months ago, but I’ve never really felt like giving it away until now.”

Stiles reached down to get something from under the couch. He pulled out a blue plastic tube.

John looked curious and then stunned as Stiles handed it to him.

“Is it… Is this art? New art? Your art?”

John opened up his the tube and smoothed out the paper that was inside. It was the pastel drawing Stiles made months ago, the one he made after their camping trip and the one he showed Derek when he first came by his apartment. The Stilinskis were gathered around the campfire, happy, laughing, and loving. There was Robbie at the right, hands towards the fire, then their father, who was smiling at Ben. Ben was laughing, along with Fran, her long flying behind her. Jill and Stiles were at the end, arms around each other.

“This is us,” his Dad’s voice was barely a whisper.

“Yeah.” Stiles chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. He felt nervous all of a sudden. And when he was nervous, Stiles did what he did best. He rambled.

“I-I just thought it’d be nice to give that you guys. And… er… I hope you like it. Even a bit. I mean, I know it’s no painting. It’s all just pastels and stuff. But I’m a bit short on materials and I still have some commissions to do. And I’m actually planning this pasta art for Robbie’s birthday, but he’d probably hate it on principle and say I wasted good food and he’d, I don’t know, try to cook the whole artwork or something. And… and… um…” He pointed his fingers at the art. “I showed that one to Derek before and he told me that right now would be an awesome time to give them to you. He’s right. And I realized it’s been a while since I last made something new. For us, I mean. So… there.”

His Dad sounded choked up. “Gem, it’s been over three years since you last made something about us… for us.”

“Over three…” Stiles was startled. He stopped. He didn’t know what to say. He swallowed thickly.

“I know you always used to talk to Mom about your art,” his Dad continued, looking at the piece, eyes roving all over it. “Hell, she’s the only one apart from Scott and Ms. Grant who you allow to look at your sketchbooks. And the last time I saw anything you did was on receipts or scraps of paper or on napkins or your commissions. There was nothing about you. For you. You just…”

He took a deep breath. “Son, it’s beautiful. It’s been a long time since… It’s amazing.”

Stiles’ throat tightened.

“Do you remember the day after your mother died?” John’s voice took on a bittersweet tone. “You bought that apartment and then stayed there for months. You stopped going to school. You threw yourself into these commissions and you came home so rarely and it… It took you a long while to get to a good place, son.”

“I…” Stiles couldn’t meet his eyes. “I know, but I’m… I’m better now, you know. For a lot of reasons. After what happened to you and Jill, I was scared shitless. And I don’t… I don’t know what to say, Dad. The past three years have been a bit of a mess. I've been a mess. With the apartment and having… having tried to quit school. I just… I _feel_ better now, that’s all. I _want_ to be better.”

“There’s nothing wrong with grieving, son, but now things have been so good.” John said as he looked at the artwork lovingly. “You made art about us and thinking about art school. My god, son! Art school! After so long. And you come home a lot more now. And with Derek…”

“I love Derek, Dad,” Stiles blurted out. He paused. “…Ok, that was a bit of a non sequitur after art school.”

John chuckled. “It was. But I know, son. I get it. You seem really, really happy.” He leaned forward, reaching out and Stiles held his dad’s hand tightly. “Mom would have loved him, and she would have been proud of you, son. I know I am.”

“Thanks, Dad. Really. For everything. I love you. A lot. A ridiculous lot.”

“I love you too, kid.”

* * *

It was half-past ten in the evening and Stiles was cuddled against Derek on the couch. Derek had an arm around him and was reading something on his iPad while Stiles stared blankly at the TV. It was at that moment that Stiles felt a sudden itch deep in his bones. He untangled himself from Derek and walked over to his studio. He could feel Derek’s curious stare following him.

Stiles slowly took the half-finished painting tucked in the corner. He set it down on the floor and sat down in front of it, knees propped up to his chest and his arms around his legs. He looked down at it, quiet and thinking.

His last painting of his mom wasn’t even halfway done, the smudged marks and cracked paint and the dirty cloth all rendered ugly in the passage of the years. His mother had always been beautiful. Even when the cancer had taken her hair and her vitality, she never lost her smile, never for her children. But what was ugly here was the aura of mourning, of sadness, of that part of him stuck in that time when he started and never finished the painting.

Stiles stood up, grabbed several art materials, and placed them all on the floor. He leaned down, studying the painting before grabbing a piece of charcoal and starting to draw. Each stroke reminded him of her dark hair very similar to her children, the smooth curve of her neck and jaw that she gave to Fran, the cheekbones and the ears to Robbie, the upturned nose and full lips to Stiles, the rounded shoulders and quirked smile to Jill, and the gentle and bright eyes she gave to her baby boy, Ben.

He remembered her coconut body wash and the soft smell of lily from her perfume. He remember how she always told Fran she was beautiful and strong and the best big sister in the world; how she taught Robbie to cook with love and care; how she was Stiles’ harshest critic, greatest mentor, and biggest fan; how she would attend all of Jill’s recitals and be the first in the crowd to stand and applaud; how she would sit in bed with Ben during thunderstorms and sing him lullabies until he fell asleep.

It took Stiles the better part of the evening, working quietly and steadily, the television a distant background noise. He didn’t even look at what Derek was doing, but Derek was quiet and Stiles could hear the occasional soft footsteps padding around his apartment. Derek never once bothered him though, which Stiles was thankful for.

By the time he stopped, it was already half-past two in the morning. He stopped to look at his work. He wasn’t even an eighth of the way done. But there she was, Claudia, his mother. There were still details to work on and he had to start about painting this for real but the most important part was there. She was smiling. She was beautiful.

Stiles smiled, stroking the face on the painting. He stood up, but his knees were numb and before he and his painting could stumble forward, there was a steady grip on his forearm and another hand grabbing the frame.

“Patience, love. You’ll finish that one soon enough.”

“Derek,” Stiles voice was croaky and strained as looked up at the man, rubbing his eyes. “I thought you went to sleep.”

Stiles’ thighs were shaking and he felt fatigue settle in his bones. Derek set the frame on the table safely and slowly led Stiles to the couch where a blanket and a mug of what smelled like tea were waiting.

“It’s early in the morning,” Stiles croaked. “Derek, you should have gone to bed.”

“I didn’t mind waiting for you,” Derek said, kissing his cheek. He wrapped the blanket around Stiles’ shoulders and snuggled down with him on the couch. “Here. I made you tea.”

Stiles shook his head and tugged on Derek, arranging them on the couch until Stiles had Derek’s warm bulk spread out on top of him. He buried his face in Derek’s neck. Derek relaxed and stroked Stiles’ side comfortingly.

“I hate this apartment sometimes,” Stiles said, tightening his arms around Derek. He talked on, knowing Derek would understand. “After Mom’s funeral, I stayed here for two months. Never mind that the apartment had no bed, no chairs, no food, and I didn’t have enough money to pay the water and heating. I didn’t leave no matter what anyone said. It got to the point where everyone just pitched in to make this place livable around me. This couch is from Lydia, the table is from Danny, Fran bought the bed, and Jackson even paid to have the lights and heating functional.”

Derek was quiet, but the soft kisses against Stiles neck and cheek were comfort enough.

“I stopped attending school and it was Robbie and my academic adviser who pushed the paperwork for a formal leave of absence to save my ass. I took eight months off and just did my art. This apartment wasn’t a home. It was a hideaway.” Stiles felt his throat close up. “I didn’t talk to most of my family then. I just shut down almost completely. None of my family knew how to help me. It was a mess. I was a total mess.”

“I think it was Scott who saved me. He sold some of my art stuff without me knowing and then started pushing me into doing commissions. Danny set up my website and I just… I worked. I made stuff. I sold them. And it helped. I became better. Sort of. It took me a while to be ok.”

It was overwhelming and Stiles started shivering and shaking.

“Stiles?”

Stiles held his hands to his face, palms pressing against the moisture leaking from the corners of his eyes. His breathing came short and sharp as he was flooded with feelings he didn’t know what to do about.

“Please, Stiles, don’t hide from me. Not from me,” Derek pleaded gently, kissing everywhere he could reach.

“I miss my Mom,” Stiles gasped out, sobs punctuating every other breath. “It’s like an ache that won’t go away and sometimes I forget and sometimes I don’t and it’s like most of my life crashed down around me the day I found out my Mom was sick and I’ve been stuck in this fucking limbo where I made things for people and god, Derek, I don't even invite my family to come to this damn apartment. I couldn’t even show them half the stuff I’ve drawn for them, _of them_ , not my paintings or my sketchbooks and… and now I _want_ to. I _did_. I gave them that one sketch and now I just want to finish that painting, the one that’s been stuck there for years, the one I had wanted to give Mom and I can’t… I feel… I want… Everything is so fucking great right now and I don't even know when it all started being like this.”

Derek’s hold on him was tight and bordering on painful. He cupped his face, making Stiles look up at him through teary eyes.

“What do you want, love,” Derek whispered, voice choking and eyes bright. “What do you need? Tell me. What can I do for you?”

“Love me,” Stiles gasped out. “Love me. Please.”

Derek’s face crumpled in the best way. “God, Stiles. I do. Of course, I do."

"I love you.”

Stiles felt more tears flow and he shut his eyes tight. “Again.”

“Stiles, I love you.” Derek kissed his face all over and said, “I love you, Stiles.” He murmured the words again and again.

Stiles sobbed. “I’ve loved you for weeks and weeks now. Ever since the night of the play. Derek, I love you. I do. God, I love you.”

Stiles could only reach up and bury his hands in Derek’s hair and then kiss him. He kissed him hard and desperate, like Derek was the only thing stopping the tidal wave of feelings inside of him.

“Derek… Derek…” Stiles whispered to his mouth.

Derek licked along his lips, murmuring, “I know, love. I know.”

Stiles held on as Derek slowly pulled him up by his arms and led him towards the bedroom. Stiles held onto him at all times, keeping as close to Derek as he could and pulled Derek along with him once they reached the bed. They kissed more, harder, deeper, and Stiles could feel Derek’s every press and caress against his skin.

They chucked off their clothes and then Derek was there, all warm skin and a gorgeous weight over Stiles. Stiles sobbed, biting his lip as Derek rocked their hips together at a leisurely place, Derek’s grip hard and bruising on Stiles’ hips.

Stiles’ breath hitched as their cocks rubbed together. “Derek, I… I-I still owe you from last time… I can’t… I want to…”

Derek shushed him gently, rolling his hips in just the right way to make Stiles moan. “It’s fine, love. We have all the time in the world for that. Let me do this for you.”

Stiles nodded, sobs and gasps and moans falling from his lips. He grabbed onto Derek, hitching his knees up so he could press their erections closer and, oh god, they were both so hard.

“I love you like this, you know,” Derek said. “Just like that night on the couch. Your face all red and blushing and in my arms where you belong.” He licked along Stiles’ collar bone and Stiles groaned. “I want you like this all the time, your lips swollen by my kisses, bruises all over your body from my mouth and my hands, and your cock hard and wet just for me.”

Stiles nodded. “Yes. Yes.” His cock bobbed as they rocked together, leaking all over his stomach.

Derek started kissing down his chest, teasing his nipples until Stiles was shaking from pleasure and swirled his tongue teasingly around his navel before kissing it.

Stiles keened and rolled his hips. “Derek, please.”

Derek was panting and sweaty. “You need to tell me Stiles. I can’t do anything if you don’t tell me what you want.”

Stiles took in deep gulps of air, struggling to form words. “I need you in me. I need to feel you inside me, on me. Please. I want this. I need this, Der.” He bit down on his bottom lip as Derek pressed a tender kiss to his cock and gently dragged Stiles’ hard length across his beard.

“Ok, love. All right. I will. I just…”

Stiles whined when Derek slipped off the bed, but he was a bit too far gone to form words. He could hear Derek’s huff of triumph upon finding the bottle of lube and condoms in the drawer and Stiles had to tug at his cock to stop from coming. Not yet. Not yet. Derek was back, pushing Stiles’ hands away gently.

Stiles wrapped his arms around Derek’s shoulders, lining their bodies up from chest to hip as a finger slowly pressed inside of him. Derek growled under his breath and the kiss they shared was hard, bruising and possessive. Stiles mewled at the onslaught, lips seeking his as Derek took long minutes to stretch him open. One finger. Then two. Then three.

“Please, Derek, please. More,” Stiles begged and sobbed, eyeing the man above him pleadingly.

Derek pushed Stiles hair away from his sweaty face and kissed him all over. “I’m here, love.”

When Derek finally, finally, entered him, Stiles’ hands scrabbled along his shoulders, gripping the meat of Derek’s back like an anchor to keep him from falling completely apart. Derek licked into Stiles’ mouth as he thrust forward in small motions. He maintained a rhythm, slowly rocking in and out, in and out, in slow, controlled, powerful thrusts of his hips. That was all Stiles could feel, the movement of Derek above him and inside him, Derek’s hot panting breaths across his skin, and the press of their open mouths against each other, feeling as intimate as any kiss.

“Stiles, oh god, Stiles,” Derek moaned, sounding completely and utterly wrecked. His eyes were intense and smoldering and Stiles could only sink his nails into Derek’s back.

Stiles kept sucking air into his lungs, trying to take in more breaths. A white-hot current suddenly sparked along his entire body and Stiles fisted his cock and braced his feet against the bed. Derek let out a shout as he sank in deeper, deeper. When Derek picked up the pace, Stiles could only hold on for dear life.

“Derekderekderekderek,” Stiles panted continuously, throwing one hand up against the headboard to brace himself. He looked into Derek’s eyes, wide and lust-blown and loving.

“Fuck,” Derek growled out as he thrust in and out, leaning down on his forearms so he bracketed Stiles’ head. “Ooh, fuck.”

“Derek,” Stiles whispered and pressed the gentlest kiss to his lips.

Derek grunted as the rhythm of his hips broke and he pushed his way in completely, sinking to the hilt. Stiles shivered as he felt Derek pulsing inside him, grinding his hips down in small circles to help Derek along. Derek wasted no time. He wrapped his large, warm palms around Stiles’ cock and pumped him fast and hard, rolling his hips in just the right way.

Stiles let go, colors and bright lights bursting behind his eyes like fireworks.

* * *

“Hey, Prof. K,” Stiles said, walking inside his adviser’s office that Monday morning. He went ahead and opened the window to get rid of the smell of smoke. “How are… when the hell did you get your hair done?”

Gone were his adviser’s platinum blonde locks and now Kendal’s hair was a fiery, scary red-orange.

“Last weekend, actually. It’s still new. Spooked the Dean when he saw it.” She grinned as she placed her feet up on her table. “So, what’s up, babe? How’s your Dad? And Jillian?”

“They’re good. They’re both home and healing,” Stiles said, tossing himself down on a seat.

“So, what can I do you for?” she asked. “Grief counseling?”

While her tone was joking, the look in her eyes was not. Stiles knew Kendal took it seriously when, instead of consulting her after his mom’s death, Stiles took the easy way out by trying to quit school.

“You lack tact, you know that,” Stiles said, his tone light and joking to ease her.

“I am a bitch, kid.” Kendal grinned. “I take pride in that.”

Stiles tossed a folder at her desk.

“What is this?” she looked at it in boredom.

Stiles took a deep breath. “I need your help.”

Kendal raised an eyebrow at him. She lifted her legs – and Stiles was thankful she was in jeans today – and used her big toe to flick open the folder. Once she saw what was inside, she immediately sat up. There were no traces of her usual bored, joking, sarcastic demeanor. This was the look of a professional educator. This was the way Professor Kendal looked when she barged into Stiles' apartment after he didn't come to school for two weeks, and the way she looked when Stiles filed his application to return. Now it was trained at Stiles full blast.

“CalArts. That’s the only art school I am planning to apply to.”

Kendal looked at him sharply. “Kid, at a 32 to 35 percent acceptance rate, you might want to look into a couple more.”

Stiles shook his head. “It’s the only one I _want_. It’s the one college my mother and I had always agreed on me going.”

She looked at him, completely serious. “And if you don’t get in?”

“I’m planning on getting in,” Stiles said. “And I need your help to make sure it happens, Prof. K.”

Professor Kendal closed the folder and placed her elbows on top of it, tapping it with a fingernail.

“I shouldn’t even be surprised you made this decision when we only have five weeks til the deadline.” She smirked and grabbed her phone. “You got balls, kiddo. I’ll make a few calls.”

Stiles nodded, grinning. “Thank you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A big hurray for the penultimate chapter! Just one more! I'm so excited, and also kinda nervous about ending it. I already know the start and end of the next chapter but the middle part is kind of eating me. Ack!
> 
> Comments, constructive criticisms, and kudos are always loved. Thank you very, very much.
> 
> P.S. And many thanks to [aries1972Sterek](http://archiveofourown.org/users/aries1972Sterek/profile) for being so supportive. :)


	7. Chapter Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles might have bitten off more than he could chew when he decided to apply for CalArts. He knew the California Institute of the Arts was ridiculously competitive. In June 2012, it was dubbed the ‘Harvard Business School of Animation’ by the LA Times. Not only that, but Stiles was aiming to get into their Character Animation program which had an acceptance rate of only five to seven percent. His chances were slim to none. How the fuck was Stiles going to get a chance at that?

Stiles might have bitten off more than he could chew when he decided to apply for the California Institute of the Arts. He knew CalArts was ridiculously competitive. In June 2012, it was dubbed the ‘Harvard Business School of Animation’ by the LA Times. Not only that, but Stiles was aiming to get into their Character Animation program which had an acceptance rate of only five to seven percent. His chances were slim to none. How the fuck was Stiles going to get a chance at that?

He was nothing if not persistent though. This was the first goal he’d set for himself in years and he was adamant to see it through to the end whether or not he did get in.

Miss Grant was pleased with his choice, not even the least bit surprised at what Stiles picked for his major. She even scoffed at the frighteningly small window to get accepted.

“Don’t worry about it, my Genim,” Ms. G had said, waving a hand. “The greatest animation artists of the past decades could not get into CalArts the first time.”

“That’s not helpful,” Stiles whined. “If they couldn’t get in, how the hell could I?”

“Language, my dear. And I am merely saying I have a lot of faith in you. If they couldn’t get in the first time, it’ll be even more satisfying when you do it in your first time,” Ms. G said, completely confident in him. “Now, get me those pages you drew from the Sagersen exhibit. There’s a section there I think you can use for your portfolio.”

Professor Kendal was also supportive, had reserved one of the art rooms for them and had asked the assistance and advice of some of their art professors.

“Hey, did you know John Lasseter, Brad Bird, and Tim Burton attended CalArts?” Kendal asked as they pored over years and years of Stiles’ work, trying to get a portfolio together.

“I know, Prof. K,” Stiles said studying the notes one of the art professors gave him.

There was a lot of advice to consider. The human body was the most important subject, but he also needed animals, landscapes, and scenery. Hands and faces needed to be seen. Details were imperative, but shouldn’t take over the whole piece. He needed to showcase character, personality, and emotions. Measurement lines were helpful. Variety was acceptable, but consistency was imperative.

Stiles frowned, and rubbed his eyes behind his glasses. “Fuuuck.”

“Oh, and the director of The Little Mermaid and Aladdin, John… er… something, even got rejected the first time he applied to CalArts,” Kendal added.

“John Musker,” he corrected. “Hey, Prof K, how about these?”

Stiles needed to compile two portfolios, online and physical. The online one required a minimum of fifteen drawings of people, animals, and interior and exterior environments that explored shape, form, contour and contrast. The physical sketchbook was like a visual diary containing every day sketches, film ideas, story concepts, character designs, and studies of images from films. He could even submit videos, photographs, sculptures, paintings, etc.

There were some pieces Stiles absolutely wanted to include, but there were some that didn’t fit so he still needed to find the time to draw more.

“This looks so stupid!” Stiles groaned and threw the paper clear across the living room. He chewed on the butt end of his pencil.

Robbie picked up the paper he threw and opened it. “This is pretty good though. Why do you hate it?”

“Excuse me, Robert, but do I tell you how to marinade your chicken?” Stiles just about growled out.

Robbie raised his hands in defeat. “Point taken.”

“I brought you sauerkraut, Stiles,” Jill said. “God knows you’re the only one in this entire town who actually likes it, but just something to lift your spirits.”

“Thank you!” Stiles said, sighing in relief.

Stiles' friends were also supportive. Scott kept blabbering on about CalArts and wasn’t the least bit shy about congratulating himself for being first to push Stiles into it. One day, he and Allison even came over to Stiles’ apartment laden with heavy boxes.

“What’s all this?” he asked.

Allison grinned and kissed his cheek. “Scott thought it would be a good idea to get some of your commissions around town.”

Scott bounced inside excitedly. “I thought you might find something you could use. We even brought the painting you did for Allison. And before you ask, don’t worry. We didn’t tell anybody about your whole art school thing. I know you don’t want people finding out about that for now. We just told them you wanted to borrow them because you were thinking of compiling all your best works.”

Allison smiled. “People around town were more than willing to lend these back to you.”

Stiles sniffed. “Oh my god, you guys are awesome!”

Lydia also came barging in one afternoon, dragging Jackson and Danny with her.

“Jackson and I have been looking up CalArts and talking to some people,” Lydia said, looking at a notebook. It was filled with writing, of what Stiles didn’t know. “It’s important to keep your grades up, since naturally they’ll be looking at your transcripts. But your grades have been astounding and second best in school–”

“I’m not second,” Stiles protested. “I beat your GPA by a few points.” He was ignored.

Lydia scanned her notes. “Plus, you’ve been attending art programs, summer camps, and other such events since forever and you’ve participated in a few exhibits, so we could probably add that to your credentials. We need to consider your recommendation letters too. I’ve compiled a list of possible people to ask, like Ms. Grant, Professor Clarence from the college art department, Professor Marissa from the high school art department, even Duke Mayer, if you want. You could probably add more to your list. I don’t know about your other contacts. Oh, and they said you could put in links, so we can direct them to your commissions site.”

“I talked to a friend of a friend who’s taking up a Masters in Aesthetics and Politics at CalArts,” Jackson said. “It’s a bit of a pain in the ass and she said you don’t have to do it, but it would really help make your case if you added a short film to it. She said something about flippy books and shit. I didn’t really understand that.”

“Simple pencil test animations, flipbooks, or stop-motion tests,” Danny said helpfully. “Since it’s character animation, it’d help if they saw you were interested in that stuff.”

“Which is why Danny is here,” Lydia said, snapping her notebook shut. “Danny will help you make the film and edit it and also help you make your website all nice and pretty. Jackson knows next to nothing about art and I know enough, so we can be your test audience.”

Stiles could only absorb everything that his friends had thrown at him.

“Er…”

“Well?” Lydia tapped her stilettos against the floor. “We only have a few weeks, Stilinski!”

Stiles nodded, “Er… ok… then?”

Lydia nodded and set Danny and Jackson to work on the online stuff while she started going over Stiles’ still-incomplete portfolio. Stiles couldn’t help leaning towards her and kissing her cheek. Jackson didn’t even comment beyond a huff. Danny grinned. Lydia looked smug and pleased.

“Thanks, beautiful,” Stiles said. “Thanks, guys.”

Derek was there for emotional support. He spent most of the time at Stiles’ apartment before and after work, plying him with food, drinks and sustenance, as the artist blew through his bookshelves, sketchbooks and papers upon papers of art.

“Derek!” Stiles looked up at him looking forlorn.

“I know, love.” Derek padded in from the kitchen on sweatpants and bare feet. He was carrying two mugs and handed one to Stiles.

“Thank you.” Stiles sighed in relief and drank it down.

Derek sat down beside him on the floor looking at the mess of papers and sketchbooks. He started piling all the sketchbooks together.

“Where’s sketchbook number thirteen?” he asked.

“Around here somewhere.” Stiles moaned, tossing papers in the air. “I only have three weeks, Der! Three weeks!”

“That’s still three weeks, Stiles. Don’t panic.” Derek kissed his temple. “Show me what you have so far. I might not know art but I can offer an incredibly biased opinion on how wonderful and fantastic you are to make you feel better.”

“That’s not gonna help.” Stiles laughed. He kissed him on the cheek. “Or maybe it will. It'll make me feel loads better.”

Derek kissed Stiles on the mouth and did his boyfriend duties, and Stiles loved him all the more for it.

* * *

Stiles and Robbie had heard the whispers before they even stepped out of the school’s double doors.

“Two o’clock,” Robbie muttered.

Stiles' gaze zeroed in on a woman standing on the sidewalk and looking up at the school building with a contemplative look on her face. She was in a leather jacket, tight blue jeans and boots, all long dark hair and perfect eyebrows and red lips. Half her face was hidden by a pair of large sunglasses.

Stiles and Robbie weren’t the type to get involved in other people’s business, but a lifetime of teachings from their mother and having two sisters told them never to act crass towards ladies. So when a pair of seniors wolf-whistled and made suggestive motions at the woman, Robbie automatically reacted.

“Francis, Jonah, don’t be assholes,” Robbie called out, brushing his long hair away from his eyes. He ignored the way they scoffed and flipped him off.

Stiles rolled his eyes, pushing his glasses up his nose. “You’d think people in this town haven’t seen a pretty girl.”

Robbie chuckled. “Just because females do nothing for you now in comparison to your doctor dreamboat of a boyfriend, don’t think so lowly of others.”

Stiles nudged him on the side, grinning.

“So, how’s the portfolio?”

“Only halfway done,” Stiles said, making a face. “Danny’s editing some of the videos we did two days ago and I’m stuck at an impasse against myself about one of the artworks I want to put in my portfolio.”

“But you’re still gonna go ahead with that exhibit for Ms. G?” Robbie asked.

“Yup, pretty much,” Stiles said. “I did promise her.”

By this time, the two of them had passed by the woman, who was looking at them in interest. Stiles smiled politely at her as they passed, nodding.

“Won’t it be hard for you to get that done in between working on the Calrts portfolio?” Robbie asked.

“I’ve already picked out some of the pieces,” Stiles said. “And Ms. G knows about CalArts anyway so she gave me a bit of leeway with the art I have to–”

“Excuse me.” It was the woman they just passed. “You are the Stilinski boys, correct?”

“We sound like an alternative rock band or something.” Stiles couldn’t help snickering as Robbie chuckled. Stiles gave the woman a sheepish grin at the outburst. “But yes, yes we are. Anything we can help you with, miss?”

The woman gave him a full-fledged grin. “This is definitely some weird-ass coincidence.” She pocketed her phone and took off her sunglasses. “Hey there. I’m–”

“Laura!” Stiles gasped out, shocked.

Laura looked pleased, hooking her sunglasses above her head. “Yes, the name’s Laura. I’m happy you recognized me.”

Derek had shown Stiles pictures of Laura and Peter, so of course Stiles would recognize them anywhere. Honestly, the leather jacket and the perfect eyebrows should have been a dead giveaway. Stiles had known he would one day get to meet her, and he really did want Derek’s family to like him, but he would be lying if he said he didn’t envision that Derek would be with him when the time came.

Laura was merely smiling patiently. She obviously knew the effect her sudden presence had on Stiles.

“We haven’t been formally introduced though,” Stiles said, smiling through his nerves. “Stiles Stilinski. This is my older brother, Robbie.” Robbie raised a hand in greeting. “Robbie, this is Laura Hale, Derek’s older sister.”

“Pleasure to meet you both,” Laura said. “And you Stiles, I’ve heard a lot about you… obviously.” She grinned.

Stiles couldn’t stop the flush that spread along his cheeks. He rubbed the back of his neck. “Er… well, I… you see…”

There was a ring and Laura pulled out her phone. She grinned widely and answered the call.

“Derek! Hi!”

Stiles should have known.

“Aww, Peter’s got a big mouth. It’s supposed to be a surprise!” Laura kept her eyes on Stiles as she talked. “I’m on my way to Beacon Hills. I’m still on the road, but I’ll be in town in about an hour and a half.” The lie passed through her lips easily.

"And I do know the way to the hospital, before you ask. I’ll see you then. Don’t tell Isaac and Erica though. Like I said, surprise.” Laura nodded. “Sure thing, baby bro. Love you.”

She cut the call and smiled widely, all teeth and red lips and knowing eyes.

“Anyway, before I was interrupted, I was hoping to have the chance to get to know you better, Stiles.”

There was an edge to her voice as she talked, a familiar one, the same one Robbie used on all of Fran’s suitors. On Laura though, as a lawyer, it was edging towards subtly threatening.

Stiles nodded. “Of course.”

“And you too, Robert. As well as your lovely family,” Laura said, smiling sweetly at him. “But I think we can hold off on that for a while. I do want to talk to Stiles first.”

“It’s fine. I’m a very patient man, Miss Hale, and our family can hold off on the excitement,” Robbie said, smiling.

“Good,” Laura said. “I was here a few months back, but I already know a perfect place to get a snack. Don’t worry. My treat. And I’m driving.”

Stiles was nervous. Of course he was. But Derek had manned up and had gamely agreed to meet Stiles’ family formally. It was the least Stiles could do to meet one of the people most important to Derek.

“Sure thing,” he said.

Laura held out a hand to Robert, shaking it firmly, and walked off. She didn’t even look back to see if Stiles was following.

“I like her,” Robbie said, grinning. “Good luck.”

“Thanks,” Stiles muttered a bit nervously. He tossed Robbie the keys to the jeep and hurried after the woman.

* * *

Stiles finally realized what Derek meant when he told Stiles that Laura and Peter were probably a bit too flashy for laidback Beacon Hills. Laura had a Camaro similar to Derek’s, but instead of his classic black, hers was a sexy and attention-grabbing orange with black stripes on the hood. Stiles could only imagine what type of car Peter drove considering he worked for an automobile company.

They were seated across one another in a booth at ‘Freddie’s Garden’. There weren’t many customers around and Laura sat down at a booth near the window. A few minutes later, she had her iced tea and Stiles had his milkshake.

Stiles tried to wipe his sweaty palms on his jeans inconspicuously. He was pretty nervous, but he figured that was normal for anybody in his shoes, having been kidnapped by your boyfriend’s older sister in a sudden meet-and-greet. Laura was Derek’s sister and Stiles loved Derek, so he was going to suck this up and do his best. Plus, Laura reminded Stiles of Fran, protective, straightforward that it bordered on intimidating, and more than a little bit devious.

“Derek’s told me a lot about you,” Laura said. “You’re not quite what I expected, actually.”

Stiles raised an eyebrow. “In a good way or a bad way?”

“Not quite sure yet,” she admitted, smirking.

“Derek’s got this thing about making me sound a lot nicer than I really am,” he said. “He’s told me a lot about you too, and your Uncle Peter. You’re not what I expected as well. You are a lot more intimidating in person.”

Laura laughed. “Good. I have a reputation, you know.” She sipped her iced tea. “How’s your family? I heard about the accident.”

Stiles didn’t really get what Laura was angling for, _if_ she was angling for anything, but he was fine with conversation.

“They’re doing well. Thanks for asking. It was a bit of a scare. Things are a bit of a mess here now because I’m busy, but once things clear up I would like you to meet them. I know my youngest brother Ben would like you.”

Laura was pleased with that. “Derek told me you’re an artist. Isaac showed me your commissions site actually. Good stuff.”

Stiles grinned. “Thanks. If I’m lucky, I’ll get into art school by next year. Here’s hoping.” He crossed his fingers.

Laura pursed her lips. “Yeah, Derek mentioned something about that. I know shit about art, but best of luck to you.”

“If they have good taste at all, they’ll accept me,” Stiles joked, pleased when Laura's lips quirked up in a grin.

“Derek thinks very highly of you, Stiles,” she said. Stiles could see her gaze sharpen. “And Jennifer told me she’s seen you together. I hate the bitch, but she told me you seemed to be... quite interesting.” She raised a brow at him. "You've met her. I'm sure you know that coming from her, that's quite a compliment."

Stiles rubbed the back of his neck. “I know, but forgive me if I don't really much mind what she thinks of me.”

Laura smirked. “I think it was a blow to her pride to see that Derek replaced her for someone not just younger and good-looking, but also male. I seriously doubt her view on the matter though. I mean, how could she think Derek replaced her when they weren’t even together?” She scoffed.

“She saved my Dad’s life and Jill’s, so I can’t hate her completely,” Stiles admitted. “But she didn’t touch Derek, so I won’t take anything up with her.”

“You’re surprisingly relaxed about her.”

“I know Derek’s loyal and I trust him. It’s her loss and I hardly think I’d waste energy worrying about something that’s not going to happen, especially when she’s already all the way in New York.” Stiles shrugged. “Plus Derek’s mine. If anything did happen, Derek would have told me, and I’d have taken it up with her. With him too, if he consented to anything.”

“And if Derek wants out?” Laura asked off-handedly. “Out of… whatever this thing is? I mean, you said so yourself, you’re going to go away to art school, right?”

So that’s her angle. Stiles looked her in the eye.

Stiles raised an eyebrow at her. “I still have art school to think about. Maybe I get in or maybe I don’t, but whatever happens, this is a relationship. These are things Derek and I will work on without anybody else’s meddling, not my family and not yours. Right now, I’m not gonna waste my time wondering when someone like Derek, who’s older, more experienced, and the best and kindest person I know, is going to dump me. I’ll enjoy it and want it and work for it for however long it lasts.”

Laura suddenly laughed, loud and clear, with the other patrons giving her curious looks. Stiles flushed. He knew he sounded a bit rude and more than a tad defensive, but he knew it was better to be honest, especially to Laura, who he knew only had Derek’s best interests at heart. When Laura’s laughter finally tapered off, she grabbed her iced tea and raised it to him in a toast.

“I like you, Stiles,” she said. “I think you’ll be good for him. I’m glad I finally met you.” She knocked her drink against Stiles’ milkshake and took a sip.

Stiles squeaked and sipped his milkshake. He then looked at Laura, who was looking back at him, amused and fond and warm.

“I would have wanted to meet Peter too,” Stiles said, more than a bit relieved. “But thanks, Laura. I’m glad I finally got to meet you too.”

* * *

Stiles was a talker, true, but in reality, he wasn’t quite that good with words. As cliché as it might sound, he talked through his art. So one day, when it was just him and Scott, he turned to his brother-slash-soulmate and said, "Hey, Scott. Thanks for everything."

Scott immediately understood. He just shook his head, chuckling. “Don't mention it, dude, I might not know art, but you know I'll always support you.”

“You were the one started it though - the one who made everything fall into place," Stiles said. He chuckled. "Though god knows I wanted to punch you some of the time when I was feeling crappy.” He nudged Scott gently. "But you never gave up on me. Thanks."

Scott grinned. “I’m proud of you, bro. Really. A whole lot.”

Stiles waved his hands, feeling a bit choked up. He was such a girl. Like Scott said, they were soulmates, and he beamed and leaned over, knocking their foreheads together.

“Love you, buddy.”

“You too, dude.”

* * *

 _ **From:** Queen Laura_  
_**Message:** heard you passed your portfolio! if those bitches don’t accept you, i’ll torch dat place_

 _ **From:** Stiles_  
_**Message:** ur too late. Derek and Robbie already have dibs on taking first crack if i dont get in_

The day after the deadline of his Calarts portfolio, which was a week before Ms. Grant’s exhibit, Stiles found himself in the Hale house for the first time. He was in the kitchen, watching Derek flit about as he made them dinner. Derek even had a frilly baby blue apron on and there were no signs of Erica and Isaac, who had slept over at Boyd’s house and Scott’s apartment.

Stiles eventually came clean to Derek about Laura’s kidnapping and while Derek was furious at his sister, he had calmed down upon knowing it went well and that both his sister and Stiles had become closer because of it.

 _ **From:** Queen Laura_  
_**Message:** :( fine. i’ll b d lawyer then. can’t have my bro and his bf’s bro get jailed just cuz calarts has no taste_

 _ **From:** Stiles_  
_**Message:** awww.. ur sweet xxx_

“Your sister is so awesome,” Stiles said as he laughed. “I love her.” He saw Derek smile at hearing that.

“She’s evil though,” Derek said. “Don’t believe everything she says.”

“You’re just pissed she sent me copies of your baby pictures,” Stiles said, going back to his wallpaper, the image of a sixteen-year-old Derek with spots and braces asleep with his mouth open. He giggled.

Derek sighed. He hustled over to stir the pot for a while before starting on chopping the vegetables. Stiles watched him, his chin on his palms. Derek forbade him from lifting even a finger to help.

Stiles straightened his glasses. “Are you planning to seduce me by showing off your homemaking skills?”

Derek didn’t miss a beat. “If I wanted to seduce you, love, I would be doing all this wearing only the apron.”

Stiles licked his lips. “Mm. Yes, please.”

Derek laughed, leaning over to kiss him gently on the mouth until Stiles felt his entire face heat up.

“This is all too much, Der,” he said. “You’ve been with me through the last five weeks making sure I don’t kill myself from the stress and now you’re cooking me dinner.”

Derek shrugged. “Not every day I get a few days off from the hospital. What else am I going to do with it other spend time _on_ you?”

Stiles had to duck down to hide his blush. He walked over to Derek, wrapping his arms around his waist.

“You spoil me too much, you romantic sap,” he murmured, burying his face in Derek’s shoulder. “I don’t deserve you.”

Derek leaned over, kissing his neck. Stiles could feel the soft ‘I love you’ mouthed against his skin.

Stiles looked up at Derek, not even bothering to try and hide his stupidly wide grin. The words were still new between them and they didn’t say it often, but hearing it always gave Stiles the best kind of butterflies in his stomach.

“I love you, too.” Stiles kissed the end of Derek’s nose.

Dinner was cheesy baked ziti, chicken, and dumplings with a small slice of cake for desert. At the end of it, Stiles was full and sated and they lounged on the couch, watching TV and talking softly as Stiles leaned against Derek and Derek stroked his bare arm. It was blissful, domestic, and warm and Stiles had to shake his head free from the clutches of sleep so he could do what he needed to do.

“I have a gift for you.”

“Hm?” Derek asked, obviously already drowsy.

“Hey, don’t fall asleep on me,” Stiles chastised lightly, laughing. “This is important.” He stood up, walking off.

“Hey, get back here,” Derek whined. “I was comfortable!”

Stiles chuckled. When he came back, he was carrying a rectangular box gift-wrapped in blue. That got Derek’s curiosity. He sat up.

“Here,” Stiles said, handing it to Derek.

“What is it?” Derek asked excitedly.

“Open it to see.”

Derek took to the task excitedly but carefully, peeling back each tape and trying not to ruin it. Stiles was tempted to call him out on it until he realized this was the first real present he had ever given Derek. No doubt Derek, being such the romantic he was, was going to keep the wrapping paper.

When Derek finally got the paper off, he looked at Stiles. Stiles flushed, a bit nervous. Derek opened the box and pulled back the green tissue paper inside and the bubble wrap.

Inside was the sketch of Derek that Stiles did the night of Ben’s play, framed in classic black, Stiles’ signature penned clearly right at the bottom, and the moment forever immortalized in charcoal. Derek had both elbows on the table, his chin propped on one fist. His head was tilted to the side, eyes half-closed, laughter shining in his eyes, and a smile on his face. He looked happy and beautiful.

Stiles was deeply proud and ridiculously smitten with this particular work.

“I drew it the night of the play. That was the night I realized I was in love with you.”

Derek looked surprised before a pleased flush suddenly bloomed across his neck and cheeks. Stiles grinned and leaned forward, wrapping his arms around Derek’s waist.

Derek huffed softly, a small smile on his face, before catching Stiles’ lips with his own. There was a constant smile on Derek’s face which made it more of a not-kiss, but the press of their lips was sweet and soothing. Stiles could feel Derek’s soft huffs of pleasure against his face, and it sent little tingles of delight through his body. Stiles could smell Derek, all bergamot, musk and man, and almost purred as Derek rubbed his nape affectionately with one hand.

Derek ducked his head, looking a bit embarrassed. “I’ve always wondered why you never drew me. Not that I would have demanded you do. I mean, I wanted you to but I thought… I mean, I thought you probably just didn’t want to.”

Stiles shook his head. “There’s something else inside the box.”

Derek looked confused, but he took out the frame, placing it carefully on the coffee table. He removed another layer of bubble wrap and tissue paper and got to the one underneath.

It was a green sketchbook.

Derek’s breath hitched in his throat.

Stiles’ voice was soft. “Derek, I have an entire sketchbook full of you, sketchbook number thirteen, the one that you’re always looking for that always seemed to be missing. I keep it in my room and I know in my heart I wanted to show it to you but…” He paused. “Well, thing is at first I could draw you, before we got together, like little sketches and stuff, and then when we did, I couldn’t draw you, Der. I really couldn’t, like I’d try, but your cheekbones were too unreal or your nose was perfect and I thought it all looked like crap.”

Stiles let out a breath. “Then that night happened and I realized I loved you and the floodgates opened and it was like I couldn’t stop.”

Derek opened the sketchbook and Stiles watched him take in each piece. There were doodles, caricatures, cartoons, and portraits of his face in different angles, and sometimes his back, his hair, or his hands. Sometimes Isaac was there, or Erica, Mrs. McCall, or some doctors. There was even one with Jennifer. There was one of Derek sleeping, eating, reading, and watching TV. So many, many drawings and the sketchbook was only half full.

“It’s like you’re the one thing I can’t get right on paper,” Stiles smiled. “But in real life, you’re the best thing I got right.”

Derek placed the box on the coffee table and practically pounced, pinning Stiles against the couch with his body and giving him a bruising and passionate kiss that made Stiles' toes curl. Stiles opened up to him completely and Derek’s tongue licked into his mouth, demanding and possessive in all the best ways. Derek’s palms were warm as they ran along Stiles’ arms, one snaking down to press against his hip under his shirt, thumb caressing the skin. Derek nipped at his lips, sucking them hard and making Stiles moan. When Derek pulled back, Stiles could feel the delightful stubble burn against his skin and the swell of his well-kissed lips.

“I’m guessing you liked it?” Stiles asked, breathless.

“You mean that framed drawing that not only makes me look ridiculously good but something my boyfriend drew because he loved me? Or the sketchbook full of me that not only strokes my ego but is the best declaration of love anybody has ever, ever given to me?” Derek asked. “Nope. I hate them all. I’m breaking up with you.”

Stiles groaned. “You’re an asshole.”

Derek laughed and his entire face softened. “You didn’t have to ask, love. Of course, I love it. I love you.”

Stiles blushed with pleasure. He leaned up, arms wrapping around Derek’s shoulders.

They spent most of the time making out, nestled against one another. Derek’s lips were on his lips, his cheeks, his forehead, his neck, his collar bones, all his kisses punctuated with soft bites of his skin and a litany of lovebites across his collar. His hands were everywhere, stroking Stiles arms, shoulders, thighs, and making him melt into the couch.

About half-past ten, they were dozing lightly now, holding hands and occasionally rubbing their faces and hands against one another. Stiles could feel himself drifting.

Derek kissed him on the neck and shook him softly. “Come on. You’re tired. We should get to bed.”

Stiles looked back at Derek, heartbeat spiking despite the fatigue in his bones. Making out has been their favorite thing to do to distract Stiles and stop him from stressing himself out for the past five weeks. They haven’t had sex again since that night weeks ago and while he appreciated the fact that Derek had been patient with him, Stiles would definitely want a repeat performance.

“Not tonight.” Derek smiled, catching his drift easily. “You’re tired and you have a lot of sleep to catch up on from all those all-nighters.”

Stiles puffed his cheeks. “I can get it up for you.” He paused. “Ugh. Always thought it’d be at least a few decades before I’m saying that. I’m only twenty-one, for god’s sake.”

Derek laughed loudly. “Tired. Bed. We’ll snuggle.”

They didn’t have sex that night, and Stiles didn’t mind. Instead, they spent long minutes making out and touching each other gently under the covers until he fell asleep in Derek’s arms, his back to Derek’s chest. The last thing he saw was his framed drawing and his sketchbook placed prominently on Derek’s bedside.

And when Stiles woke up the next morning half an hour before Derek did and had the luxury and privilege to watch the older man gently wake, Stiles knew they had a long time (hopefully all of forever) together to do everything they wanted.

* * *

Ms. Grant had chosen the theme _‘Happy Moments’_ for the gallery, which was right up Stiles' alley. He didn’t want to think Ms. G had planned her art show around his current dilemma with art school, but he was thankful and relieved he didn't have to make a whole new set of works if the theme was something complicated.

The exhibit was going to be open for a week and opened at six o’clock on a Friday. Stiles was already there an hour early, talking to Janey Blouse, their gallery organizer. Ms. G was also already there with four of her art students who were exhibiting their works. There was also a man in a suit.

Stiles mingled with the other art students and found out that he wasn’t the oldest among them but he was the most experienced, even more than two of them who were already attending art school.

“I’ve seen your commissions site, actually,” May said, dressed head to toe in yellow complete with large sunflower earrings. “You’re really good.”

“I was there at the Sagersen Exhibit last year,” Erwin, or was it Eugene, said. “I saw your stuff. You're damn good.”

Stiles laughed. “Thanks. You’re too kind.”

“Genim, my darling,” Ms. G suddenly called out. “Come say hello to Mr. Ginnis.”

Stiles thanked the others and excused himself. Ms. G introduced him to Ferdinand Ginnis, one of their sponsors. He was kind and they talked candidly. He seemed quite impressed with Stiles’ credentials.

“What are you interested in, Genim?” Ferdinand asked

“Call me Stiles, sir,” Stile said. “Most of my works are on people, cartoons, animation, and all that. I like telling stories with my work. I hope you can come around to see them.”

“I’m planning to,” Ferdinand said, smiling kindly.

As six o'clock neared, people started trickling in. Ms. Grant, Stiles and the other art students were immediately swept up into conversation with sponsors, friends, and guests. Stiles was contributing a lot to the gallery. He was second billing and had the most works right after Ms. G herself, but it was still her show not his so Stiles wasn't so busy that he couldn't excuse himself from the crowd to meet his friends who came in at half-past six.

The dress code was smart casual, but most people usually wore something artsy or way-out to fit the theme. Since Stiles was exhibiting his works, he was expected to dress nicer. He went with a white button up, a green vest, black jeans, and rather flashy neon green and yellow sneakers. He wore one of his fancier glasses with the slim and sleek chocolate brown frames and his usually unruly brown hair was tousled.

His friends took care to look just as nice, from Lydia, Allison and Erica's lovely dresses to Scott, Isaac and Boyd in their nice shirts and jeans and Jackson and Danny in blazer and dress pants.

 

“Man, this is so awesome!” Scott pounced on him, giving him a large hug. “Ugh! I still can’t get over it every time you’re part of a show.”

“Thanks, bro.” Stiles laughed.

“Don’t you look hot?” Danny grinned.

“Looking good, babe,” Erica said, kissing his cheek.

“You scrub up pretty good, Stilinski,” Lydia said, giving him a once-over and looking satisfied.

“Wait until Derek sees you.” Allison teased.

“This looks pretty cool, Stiles,” Isaac said, rocking on his heels. “This is my first time coming to something like this. I can’t believe I know someone who’s a big time artist.”

“Isaac knows zilch about art anyway,” Jackson scoffed.

“Hey! Not like you know any better!” Isaac pouted.

“Kids,” Lydia chastised. “Don’t embarrass us and don’t embarrass Stiles.”

Stiles laughed at them.

“I wanna try the food,” Scott announced, eyeing the mini bar at the corner.

“But we just ate,” Allison said.

Stiles laughed. “Drinks and food are free anyway or if you want I can give you kids the tour?”

“We’ll find our way around,” Lydia said, shooing him away. “Go work the crowd, superstar.”

It was almost seven when his family came in and Stiles disentangled himself from a few admirers to meet them.

“There you guys are,” Stiles said. He let out a yelp as Ben crashed into his middle. He grinned, ruffling Ben’s hair. This was Ben’s first time seeing one of Stiles’ art shows.

“My first show!” Ben squealed. He was in a checkered polo and jeans.

“Work ran a bit late. Things are looking great here, son,” John said, giving Stiles a big hug. He had changed from his uniform to a navy blue polo and nice dress pants.

“I can’t wait to see your works, hon,” Fran said, kissing his cheek. She was in a sleeveless top, a scarf, and tight jeans. “And you look so handsome by the way.”

“This is so cool!” Jill bounced on her heels. She was wearing a shirt Stiles made for her, a DIY shirt with colorful paint splotches all over it. “Where’s your exhibit?”

“Gallery C.” Stiles pointed towards the left. “Do you guys want the tour?”

“We’ll wait until Dr. Derek gets here,” Ben said.

Jill and Fran giggled. Robbie smirked.

John sighed. “I’m getting a drink.” He walked off.

“Dad’s such a drama queen.” Robbie chuckled. “I’ll look after him.” He rubbed Stiles shoulder fondly before following after their father. 

“What time is Derek coming?” Fran asked.

“I don’t know,” Stiles said. “I’ve been texting him but he said he’s got work and might be–” He let out a yelp when someone grabbed his middle.

There was a chuckle in his ear and a soft whisper, “Hey, gorgeous.”

“Hi!” Stiles squeaked out. “I thought you’d come later.”

“Got a few appointments rescheduled. I’m not going to miss this,” Derek said, leaning down to kiss him quick and chaste on the mouth. He turned to everyone. “Evening, everybody.”

“Hey, Derek,” Fran said.

“Hi, Dr. Derek!” Ben grabbed his arm. “This is my first exhibit! My first!”

“Mine too.” Derek chuckled. “We have to make sure we see all of Stiles’ works.”

Jill grinned, grabbing Derek’s other arm. “Come on! Let’s look at everything, Dr. D!”

“Hey, hey,” Stiles waved a hand. “Think I can have Derek for a few minutes first before you drag him off somewhere?”

Ben made a face and Jill sighed. “Fine.”

“We’ll go get some crackers and dips and some of those mini mozzarella balls. I can see Robbie's already pestering the servers for the recipe,” Fran said, leading her siblings elsewhere. “A drink, Derek?”

“Anything’s good,” Derek said, smiling at her. “Thanks, Fran.”

Stiles took Derek’s hand in his, not caring about the curious looks they were getting. He grinned. “You look really, really good by the way.” He waggled his eyebrows.

Derek was in a white blazer pulled up to his elbows, a grey shirt, grey pants, and loafers. It was taking a lot of effort on Stiles’ part not to touch him all over or drag him to the nearest bathroom or empty room.

“Thanks, but not as good as you, love,” Derek said, giving him an appraising look. He licked his lips.

Stiles flushed. “No. No. No. Stop looking at me like that.” He waved his hands. “I have people to talk to, important people, so I can’t risk beard burn from you’re sexy stubble. Hands off and be good.”

Derek chuckled. “Fine, fine, but I’m excited. I'm so proud of you.”

His eyes were shining and he was beaming, looking so proud that Stiles just had to kiss the man, brief and loving.

Stiles tangled their fingers together. “Come on. I’ll give you guys the tour.”

Before they could reach the Stilinskis and Stiles’ friends, Ms. Grant called them over.

“Stiles, my darling, there you are,” she said, catching up to them. “And hello to you, Derek. Glad you could join us.”

“Good evening, Ms. Grant. Lovely show,” Derek said politely.

“Hey, Ms. G,” Stiles said, smiling. “Need me for something?”

“There are a few people I want you to meet,” she said, “Some of Ferdinand’s acquaintances.”

Stiles turned to Derek. “You go on ahead with everyone. I’ll catch up.”

Derek nodded, kissing him on the cheek and walking off. Stiles waved a hand at his family, pointing to the direction of his exhibit and letting everybody go on without him. The talk with Ferdinand Ginnis and some other art work connoisseurs didn’t last long, but Stiles left feeling puffed up and red-faced with all the nice things they said. Mr. Ginnis in particular was generous with praise.

In no time at all, Stiles was back with his family, giving them a tour.

Ben and Scott were excited to see just about everything. Ben knew his brother was an artist, but he had never really seen Stiles’ works. Scott was being the best bestfriend and the best cheerleader in the world.

“This one is so pretty!” Ben said, pointing at an eight-panel cartoon strip Stiles drew. It was all in black and white, save for the last panel. “I think it’s my favorite!”

“Ben, look at this one!” Scott said, and together they bounced off to look at another piece.

“I take it back!” Ben cheered. “This one’s my favorite!”

“Everything’s your favorite, Ben,” John said, laughing.

“How about you, Dad?” Stiles asked. “Anything caught your eye yet?”

“Nope,” John scoffed. “I’m not that easily impressed.” Everyone could tell he was though, as he looked at each piece with a small warm smile.

Natalie Martin, Lydia’s mother, also came by and Stiles gaped when she named quite a high price for one of Stiles’ paintings, outbidding everybody else.

“M-Mrs. Martin…” Stiles stammered, flushing.

“This is so going into my office,” Natalie gushed. “This will be put up right next to that seascape painting from Ms. Grant that I bid on or maybe at our summer house in France. So many choices.”

“The seascape one with the foams, Mrs. Martin?” Danny asked. “I saw another bid on that. I think someone beat yours.”

“What?” Natalie tugged her purse to herself. “I bet Carolina Carter is the one who bid on that. She’s just bidding on the ones I want. That woman does not have an artistic bone in her body.” She stomped off determinedly.

Fran let out a whistle. “Wow. Your mom’s badass, Lyds.”

“Nobody outbids my Mom.” Lydia flicked her hair over her shoulder. She glanced at Stiles fondly. "And she has good taste." She walked off to follow her mother.

There was a laugh. “Well, I’d like to take a crack at this bidding thing.”

Stiles gaped as someone wrote on the little clipboard, outbidding Mrs. Martin by a quarter of her price. Stiles looked at his professor. He didn’t even know she was coming.

Robbie let out an impressed whistle. “Wow, Prof. K. You’ve got some big bucks.”

Kendal smirked. “I'm not quite into all these artsy-fartsy stuff, but this painting matches my hair.”

Robbie laughed as Stiles pointed a finger at her. “Your hair was only red-orange for five weeks! Now it’s pink! What the hell?”

“Your artistic palette has a gajillion shades of black, but this is pink?" Kendal scoffed. "It’s _bubblegum pink_ , I'll have you know.” She blew Stiles a kiss and walked off.

Jackson and Isaac were trying to outdo each other on making the most artistic comments, while Boyd looked torn between amusement and exaperation. The three were crowding around a two-foot tall sculpture of a human, sans head, made of interweaving black and white twine.

“It represents good and evil.” Isaac nodded solemnly.

“No, it doesn’t,” Jackson said, scoffing. “It represents how blind people are to… to…” He waved a hand. “You know.” Isaac nodded, as if he understood.

“I just think it’s a person without a head,” Boyd said.

“You know nothing about art,” Jackson said.

“You have to dig deep, Boyd,” Isaac said, slinging an arm around his shoulders. “Find your inner artist. Listen to your soul–”

“You guys are idiots,” Boyd said, walking away.

“Your soul is speaking to you! Hear it!” Isaac yelled.

Fran, Allison, and Erica were gushing over one of Stiles’ more colorful pieces, featuring the side profile of a nude woman leaning against the counter of a kitchen and smiling, her skin painted a myriad of colors and her long hair reaching all the way to the floor.

“She’s so pretty,” Erica said.

“For some reason, I can’t stop smiling at it.” Allison giggled.

“Did you draw her from anyone you know?” Fran asked.

Stiles chuckled. “Maybe.”

John ambled over, took one look at the picture. “Isn’t that Ms. G?”

“That’s her?” Danny asked, looking at it.

“Yeah, when she was younger,” John said. “She had crazy long hair, not like this, but still long.”

“You know what a naked Ms. G looks like?” Fran asked. John balked and everybody laughed.

“It was the hair and the smile!” he protested, pouting.

When they finally reached the heart of the exhibit, Stiles felt his palms break out into a sweat.

One of the reasons Ms. G chose this venue was because it was circular, and all of the rooms and galleries led to a hall in the middle where each artist’s centerpiece was displayed. They were suspended from the ceiling with clear, hair-thin wires in a hanging collection of paintings, with draperies falling like waterfalls and angled lights giving it an ethereal feel. The crowd that was surrounding them was already ooh-ing and aah-ing at the works.

Ms. G was there and when she saw Stiles, she beamed. Before everyone could completely exit his Gallery to see his centerpiece, Stiles turned to them, arms flailing to get their attention.

“I-I… this is… this is my centerpiece,” Stiles said, trying not to stutter and failing badly. He knew he looked a bit peaky, going by the concerned looks he was getting, but he soldiered on. He could see Ms. G. come towards them, standing beside John.

“I haven’t… this is… this one has been put on hold in forever. I-I haven’t… Nobody else has seen the finished work. Ever. Well, aside from Janey since we hung it up and Ms. G because this is her exhibit anyway but… I…” He took a breath. “I started the painting four, almost five, years ago and I never finished it. Until now.”

There was a sharp inhale. This one from John. Before anyone could speak, he was running past Stiles and into the gallery and was met with the vision of Stiles’ painting.

There it was, Stiles last painting of his wife and their mom.

Claudia Stilinski was seated in John’s favorite armchair in the Stilinski living room. The glass doors leading to the backyard illuminated her and the entire room. The room also held the presence of the rest of the family. There was Fran’s mug with the letter ‘F’ on the coffee table along with Robbie’s favorite recipe book. There was Jill’s guitar in the corner and on the couch was Ben’s favorite blue and white sweater beside Stiles’ green sketchbook. On Claudia’s lap was the Sheriff’s jacket, the badge clearly seen on the chest.

The best and most surprising thing was that Claudia was bald, the way she had been for the last two years of her life, when she shaved off her beautiful dark hair before it could be taken away from her cancer treatments.

But she was there, her smile bright, happy and familiar, her eyes scrunched up at the sides to show the laugh lines John loved to kiss. She was in her favorite green dress, a knitted scarf around her neck, with her favorite teardrop earrings and a silver necklace with her wedding ring hanging from her neck.

The colors were warm and happy, vibrant and beautiful. It was a reminder all of the best things about her, her fond laughter, her loud voice, the smell of her perfume, the taste of her cooking, her warm hugs, and her gentle kisses.

Robbie already had his hands full with a crying Fran. Jill had tossed herself onto Stiles, burying her face in his neck. Scott, Allison, and Lydia all looked choked up, while the rest of his friends looked a mix of stunned, impressed and overwhelmed. Derek was beaming with pride. Ms. Grant looked beyond proud.

Ben had pushed his body against his Dad’s side. “That’s Mommy,” he whispered.

John looked so choked up as he brought Ben into his arms. Ben had only been seven years old when Claudia died.

“Mommy’s so pretty,” Ben said, smiling, “The prettiest in the world.”

Robbie bumped his shoulders against Stiles and placed a hand on the back of his neck. Fran started laughing, small huffs of delighted laughter. Jill joined her, giggling and overjoyed. The sisters grabbed Stiles and they give him a kiss to each cheek.

John was beaming, eyes teary. “Stiles painted her perfectly. Mom would have loved it.”

He shuffled over, grabbing Stiles and burying his face against Stiles’ temple with a kiss and a tight hug. His siblings pressed against his sides and wrapped their arms around him.

“I think I found my favorite work of yours,” John said, voice shaky but smile wide.

It took Stiles a long while to get here, years of mourning, confusion and grief, and many bleak nights and monotonous days, but he was finally here. He had his family with him and found the love of his life.

Stiles felt his Dad kiss his temple. “Mom would be proud of you.”

Stiles buried his face in his Dad’s neck, tears in his eyes and a smile on his face. For the first time, he really, really felt that was true.

* * *

**  
  
**

**EPILOGUE**

**  
**

* * *

It was March and it was karaoke night at Mama’s Diner. As expected, the place was packed. Let it never be said that the people of Beacon Hills did not enjoy a good karaoke party.

March was also the month of John's birthday so the entire Stilinski family was present, even Fran and Richard who came all the way from L.A.

“Happy birthday, sir,” Derek said, handing the man a rectangular paper bag.

Laura, who had taken time off from work, was also there. She handed the Sheriff a small box. “Happy birthday, Sheriff.” She gave him a friendly peck on the cheek.

John looked curiously at the bag and pulled out a wine bottle. He groaned in delight. “Ooh, good year. Thanks, son.” Laura gave him a pair of fancy black gloves. “And thank you, sweetie.”

They all settled on the long table to chat and Stiles watched them. He didn’t know what they were talking about, but they all looked comfortable and happy. Stiles was glad.

Jill came bouncing back to their table, her guitar hanging from her back and her face and neck sweaty. She kept the side of her hair shaved ever since the car accident months ago, not at all shy about showing off the faded white of the two-inch scar on her temple. She kept the other side long and curled though. Stiles thought she’d never looked prettier.

“Done with my set,” Jill said, wiping her face. “Ugh. I wanted to go on drums. Dean was totally hogging them, that asshole.” She put down her guitar.

“Language,” John said in warning. Jill rolled her eyes.

Scott grinned as the person onstage murdered the classic Journey song ‘Don’t Stop Believing’. “I really wanna do Kings of Leon’s ‘Sex on Fire’ if only they weren’t parents around.”

Stiles laughed. “We can wait for next month’s karaoke night.”

“What’s the difference?” Isaac asked.

“It’s ‘No Oldies Karaoke Night’,” Stiles said. “And yep, that’s exactly what it’s called. It’s a teens and young adults only party.”

“Sounds awesome!” Isaac grinned.

“Did someone already sing ‘Something to Talk About’?” Erica asked.

“Greenberg kind of killed that version about two hours ago, and not in a good way,” Danny said, laughing. “You can probably do loads better, Erica. Log it.”

Allison laughed. “Well, I know I’m no vocal goddess, but I’m totally belting out a pretty passable ‘Ironic’ by Alanis.” The two sauntered over to the host who was listing everything down.

“Put me down for ‘So Emotional’, Erica,” Laura called out. Erica gave her a thumbs up.

The woman singing ‘Don’t Stop Believing’ on stage was finally getting into her last chorus. Everyone in the diner sighed in relief when she was done.

“Where are you going, Der?” Isaac asked as he noticed the man excuse himself from Laura and John.

Derek simply grinned and walked up to the stage.

The host grabbed her clipboard. “Ok, thanks for that lovely mangling, I mean, handling of a classic, Mrs. Reynolds. Awesome job. And now for another number, here’s hoping for something not that depressing.” She checked her list. “We have…”

Stiles grinned as Derek hopped on the small stage. Everyone in the place looked stunned.

The host was wide-eyed and excited. “W-We have Dr. Derek Hale.”

“Thanks,” Derek said, taking the mic.

“WOO, DEREK!” Laura screamed, jumping up. Several people laughed and Stiles could only shake his head in amusement.

“Everyone knows I don’t really dance in these affairs,” Derek said, as he wound the mic’s cord away from his long legs. “And I really don’t. Sorry, people.”

“Boo!” Lydia shouted.

“But, as my wonderful boyfriend is aware, I happen to have an adequate singing voice,” Derek said. “He’s been asking me to do this and who am I to say no.” He motioned to the host and the music started.

“Hell, yes!” Stiles shouted back, grinning. Derek only laughed softly to himself.

Stiles grinned as he recognized the song. A few in the crowd squealed and cheered. Erica, Isaac and Laura were all hollering. More than a few people pulled out their phones to record.

“Oh my god!” Allison turned to Stiles. “Is he seriously singing a Marvin Gaye song?!”

Stiles knew his face was flushing a little as everyone turned his way. “He actually does have an awesome voice. He’ll pull it off.”

“Has he sung to you before?” Scott asked, eyes wide. When Stiles nodded, all the girls started squealing. Even John looked a bit impressed.

“Damn, bro,” Fran said, waggling her eyebrows at him.

The music rose and Stiles turned to watch Derek, who was holding the mic stand, eyes on the crowd. He glanced at Stiles as he started to sing.

 _“I’ve been really trying, baby. Trying to hold back these feelings for so long.”_ [[x](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BKPoHgKcqag)] [[x](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qG87HXXUZ0Y)]

“Daaaamn!” Danny said, looking impressed and just a bit turned on.

 _“And if you feel, like I feel baby.”_ Derek tilted his head to the side, smoldering eyes trained at the crowd. _“Come on, oh, come on.”_

“Erica, are you filming this?” Laura asked as she stood up on a chair to get a better view. Isaac squeaked and held on to her hip.

“Yep and holy hell, Peter is going to flip that he missed this.” Erica squealed. She grasped Boyd by the shoulder as she stood up on a chair too. Everyone practically had their phones raised to the air.

 _“Let’s get it on. Ah, let’s love, baby. Let’s get it on.”_ Derek did a graceful step to and fro motion, hands sliding along the mic stand. Someone in the crowd screamed loudly.

“Wow. He hit that pitch spot on,” Richard commented.

“The man is making the rest of us look bad,” Robbie commented, laughing.

 _“We’re all sensitive people, with so much to give.”_ Derek motioned to the crowd. _“Understand me, love. Since we got to be, let’s live. I love you.”_ He looked right at Stiles, who blushed behind his glasses, grinning widely.

“Dr. Derek’s really good though,” Ben said. “Right, Daddy?”

“Well, he does have the crowd going.” John nodded, looking amused at the screaming crowd.

“If some of the people faint, I’m putting them all on Derek’s roster,” Melissa said, laughing.

 _“There’s nothin’ wrong with me lovin’ you, Ohh, yeah.”_ Derek did a small, absolutely teeny, roll of his hips and by god if the people didn’t start cheering. Erica, Fran, and Laura were jumping up and down on the seats. Boyd, Richard, and Isaac had to hold on to them in case they tipped over.

“Ms. Pippin from the library just fainted!” Jill said, grinning madly pointing across the crowd.

 _“And giving yourself to me can never be wrong,”_ Derek looked at Stiles direction, smiling. Stiles sent him a grin and a wink. _“If the love is true.”_

“Which Ms. Pippins? The mom or the daughter?” Melissa asked.

“Daughter.” Jill peered at the crowd. “Ms. Pippins the elder is making really… er, really awkward dance moves for her age. God. Stiles! Look!”

“My boyfriend is up onstage molesting a mike stand,” Stiles said, eyes trained on Derek. “Why the fuck would I look at anybody else?”

 _“I aint’ gonna worry. I ain’t gonna push, won’t push you baby.”_ Derek leaned over and his shirt rode up for a second, showing the skin of his hip.

“Take it off, Derek!” Fran shouted. Richard only looked amused.

“TAKE IT OFF, BRO!” Laura pumped her fist in the air.

“That’s just inappropriate, Laura,” Isaac said, shaking his head.

“Come on, Derek!” Erica cheered. Boyd sighed as she almost toppled off her chair, her arms wrapping around his head so she didn’t fall off.

_“And I’m askin’ you baby, I’m askin’ you to get it on with me… Ahhh!”_

And when Derek hit that high-pitched scream, the entire place practically exploded.

Stiles fell so hard in love again with the man he practically couldn’t see straight.

“Holy shit!” Scott gaped.

“Damn. Even I’m turned on,” Jackson admitted, elbowing Stiles. “Good job, Stilinski.”

Lydia, Allison, Laura, Fran, and Jill were giggling and fanning themselves with their hands.

“That man can sing,” John commented, eyebrows raised way up to his hairline. That was enough to make Stiles flush some more.

Derek went off into a smooth and sexy litany of little Oohs, Aahs, babys, and sugars. _“Let’s get it on…”_

As the song tapered off, the crowd gave him a resounding applause. Derek bowed his head, a pleased smile on his face as he handed off the mike.

It took the better part of fifteen minutes for Derek to get out from the mass of people that greeted him as soon as he got off the stage. By the time he reached their table, his clothes were ruffled and he looked harassed.

“Oh my god, Derek!” Laura squealed. “I loved it!”

“Doc! That was the sexiest thing ever!” Lydia gushed. Allison nodded, giggling.

Derek smiled, looking embarrassed. “Thank you, ladies.”

“Peter is going to hate your guts for doing this without him around!” Erica squealed. “I need to send it like, now!”

Melissa was grinning. “You skipped out on us during our last Christmas party at the hospital, Derek. You’re not getting out of another one this year.”

Fran went right up to his face, cupping his face with her hands. She grinned then leaned over and pressed a kiss right on his cheek. Jill bounded up, kissing his other cheek.

“Me too!” Ben said. He made a face. “But I won’t kiss you.” He hugged Derek instead.

Derek accepted it graciously, smiling at them.

“Even I have to admit, that was pretty good, Derek. Way to give them a show.” John raised his beer bottle to the man. Derek laughed at that, saluting the man.

Stiles threw his hands up when Derek finally sat down beside him. “Finally! Thought you’d forgotten about me, you jerk,” He said jokingly.

“Never,” Derek said, leaning over and kissing him right on the mouth.

Stiles grinned. “Now, I counted about six inappropriate touches, including one from Ms. Pippins the elder right on your ass. Four of them trying to slip you their phone numbers, also including Ms. Pippins the elder. Plus two people trying to kiss you, and that does not include my sisters.” He raised an eyebrow. “But that’s just what I saw.”

“The actual numbers aren’t too far off but higher,” Derek said, laughing.

Stiles grinned, leaning over and kissing Derek on the mouth, slow and sweet. He could feel Derek’s grin against his lips as they kissed some more. There was a squeal from one of the girls and a wolf whistle, probably from Danny. Then there was a cough and the two separated, Stiles rolling his eyes at his Dad.

John waved a hand and everyone at the table quieted. “I would like to go ahead and make a few announcements before we get the food and drinks going.”

He looked at Fran. “First of all, as it is my birthday next week, I reserve the right to eat all the damn– darn fries and chips I want.”

“I haven’t said anything.” Fran pouted.

“Just tossing that out so you stop taking away my food when I’m not looking,” he said. He addressed the table. “And also, I am forever thankful to be surrounded by my loving family and good friends and that my children are blessed with good news during my birth month.”

“To my boy Robert, who finally got that internship we’ve all been hoping for and who will be off to Manhattan in a few weeks.” Robbie beamed as everyone congratulated him. Stiles let out a loud whoop.

“And to Jill who’ll be graduating high school soon and going on to college to focus on music. That’s one more kid I’ll be sending off to college.” Jill grinned.

“And to Ben who finally turned twelve last month and is also on point to get awarded salutatorian of his class this year.” Ben beamed.

John raised his beer bottle, looking proud. “My children continue to make me proud. My prayers go to Fran to continue doing well in a job she loves and to Stiles, to whom we wish all the best in hopes of passing art school. I know we don’t have news yet, son.”

Stiles shrugged at that while Fran cleared her throat.

“Thanks for the well wishes Daddy,” Fran said. “And we’re all glad a lot of good things have happened this month,” she stood up, “Which is why I would like to share some more good news of my own.”

Fran held out a hand to Richard, who stood up and held her hand.

Stiles eyes immediately flickered to her hand, not seeing a ring. So what...

Fran looked at her Dad. “Daddy, you’re gonna be a Pop-pop.”

There was silence as everyone gaped.

Jill was first to break. “Holy shit.”

John was wide-eyed. “Wait… you’re…”

“I’m pregnant,” Fran said.

“That’s awesome!” Ben cheered. “I hope it’s a boy!” Jill shushed him.

The Hales looked confused at the not-so-stellar reception, but Stiles gave them a small shake of his head and then motioned to John who looked on the verge of a heart attack. Laura’s mouth formed an ‘O’.

John looked at Fran and Richard. “Was this premeditated or a happy accident?”

“Only Dad would make it sound like this was a crime scene,” Jill said.

“Planned not premeditated, Daddy,” Fran said, huffed. “And this was not planned though I can assure you all that I do want a child with Richard.”

“Wait, so are you two getting married?” Stiles suddenly asked.

Fran winced. “Er… no.”

Everyone glared at Richard, who raised his hands. “Sheriff, sir, everybody, believe me, it’s not for lack of trying. Not on my part.”

“Richard proposed,” Fran said, waving a hand to stop her father’s murderous glare.

“She said no,” Richard said. He looked glum, which made their father back off. “Or not now at least.”

“What?” John turned to Fran. “Francine Stilinski!”

Fran waved her hands. “We will be getting married. Just not now. Not yet. We’ve settled for a long engagement.”

“You want a long engagement,” Richard said sullenly. “I wanted to marry you the moment I saw you.”

Fran kissed his cheek. “So yeah. If everybody can stop being a downer about it, I am once again announcing that I am pregnant.”

Stiles decided to get the ball rolling in the right lane. “Guess the family’s getting bigger. I hope he takes after me. We need more artistic members in this family.”

“Not a chance, Stiles,” Jill said. “We’re turning that kid into a music prodigy.”

John sighed. “We’ve got a lot to talk about Fran. And you too, Richard. But… I guess congratulations are in order, baby girl.” He finally grinned and they could see the moment it sunk in.

“Damn. I’m gonna be a Pop-pop.”

“I want it to be a boy!” Ben cheered as he hugged his sister.

“Congratulations!” Melissa, the Hales, and their friends surged towards Fran and Richard.

Stiles looked over at his older brother. Unlike everyone’s excited chattering, Robbie was seated silently. He hadn’t even spoken once after Fran’s announcement. Even Fran was sending her brother uneasy glances. Robbie had always been the calm before the storm. He took after their mother like that, unlike their Dad who was more explosive and expressive.

When Robbie cleared his throat, everyone quieted down. Even John looked curious at what his eldest son would say. Nobody’s ever going to be good enough for Fran, not for Robbie, because he loved Fran the most.

Robbie shrugged and grabbed his drink. “A long engagement is crap given you’re having a kid, Fran. Two years to get a wedding going. That’s all I’m saying about this.” He raised his bottle to the air and took a sip.

The happy chatter started once more. Robbie accepted Fran’s embrace and thankful kisses, but Richard was smart enough not to approach and to simply give Robbie a polite nod and smile.

Stiles smiled, looking around at his family. He grinned to himself. Derek wrapped an arm around his shoulders and nuzzled his cheek sweetly, raising an eyebrow with an excited grin.

“Of course you have to get the last word in,” he said.

Stiles laughed. “Not like I knew about Fran’s announcement.” He kissed him on the nose.

“Now it’s my turn to get my good news out of the way. And also the reason for Derek getting up on that stage to sing to me.” Stiles pushed his glasses up his nose and pulled something out from his jacket. “I got something from Ferdinand Ginnis, one of the sponsors back at Ms. G’s _'Happy Moments'_ exhibit.” He shrugged. “Turned out he was Associate Director.”

Stiles tossed an envelope on the table.

“Guess which course of which college?”

Silence.

Then it was utter pandemonium from his family and his friends.

Stiles knew his Mom would have loved the Hales, and she would have been proud and excited about Fran’s pregnancy, Jill’s graduation, Robbie’s internship, and Ben being salutatorian. But he also knew she would be laughing her heart out as his Dad went right up on that stage, grabbed the mic from the host, and started screaming to the crowd about his son’s acceptance letter to the California Institute of the Arts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FINALLY! I finally finished this! Oh my god. /slams head on table/ I can’t believe it!
> 
> It took a long while to write this one because I didn’t write it straight through. I actually finished the epilogue before I even got started on the first part and the last part I wrote for this chapter was the scene with Laura and Stiles.
> 
> But anyway, thanks so much to all the readers for the lovely comments and the insane Kudos-es and all the subscribers. I would totally appreciate a final comment, like even a teeny itty bitty one, or possibly any last advice and constructive criticisms you guys can give. Hopefully I can embark on another fic soon.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this as much as I had fun writing it. Thank you very, very much. :)
> 
> (My thanks to aries1972Sterek, who has been the best cheerleader. Thank you!)


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